


Five Days in Galdin Quay

by pinkmoogle



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmoogle/pseuds/pinkmoogle
Summary: After everything that's happened — the invasion of the Crown City, the flee to Lestallum, the murder of Jared Hester and the extemporized decision to retreat to Cape Caem — you and your best friend, Iris Amicitia, unquestionably decide that a girls-only vacation is in order. With enough gil saved between the both of you, you ultimately decide on taking advantage of Galdin Quay's white-sand beaches, flourishing palm trees, ice-blue waters and the best seafood cuisine that Eos has to offer for the entirety of five whole days. However, what happens when, the night before departure, Iris decides to change the plans?So much for a girls-only vacation.





	1. Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello there, Kupo!
> 
> First and foremost, I'd like to point out that this is my FIRST FANFICTION EVER. (YAY!) As nervous as I am to finally be crawling out of my cave and emerging into the world of Ao3, I'm super excited to share this story with you guys. Ever since first experiencing Galdin Quay in all it's splendor, I /knew/ that I wanted to write about it. The beaches, the white-caps, the landscape, the resort... It's the perfect vacation spot, is it not?! With that being said, there /are/ minor (possibly major) spoilers in the story. I'll try not to linger on them too much, but for the sake of progression, they /will/ be there. 
> 
> Please, enjoy!

“You’re _sure_ that you don’t mind?” Iris Amicitia inquired with an attenuate frown as she propped an elbow atop the old, timeworm railing that enclosed the modest front porch of the only house occupying Cape Caem. Nestling her chin into the palm of her hand, she glanced down the bridge of her nose at you before pushing out a sigh through her nostrils when you didn’t answer right away. “(Y/N)...” she whined, right foot catching the planks with a creak of protest as she stomped in apprehension and unease.

“ _Yes_ , Iris… I’m _sure_ that I don’t mind. Okay?” From your seated position on the porch’s timbered stairs, you turned your head and craned your chin to meet the girl’s troubled gaze. Her dark eyes housed more than just a worry for your opinion — they also housed a subtle, lingering sense of disappointment alongside an apology that she didn’t need to vocalize for you to understand.

She felt bad about changing the plans.

 

 

After everything that had happened — Niflheim’s invasion of the Crown City, citizens fleeing the clutch of the Imperial Army and migrating to Lestallum to seek refuge, Jared Hester’s death at the hands of General Caligo and the extemporized decision to further avoid bloodshed by fleeing to the Cape Caem outpost — it was, without a shadow of a doubt, safe to say that a brief recess from the calamity was in order. Though Cape Caem was calm and relaxing with it’s salty mists and constant sunshine, you and Iris wanted a taste of something… _more._ You wanted _more_ sunshine, _more_ salty mists. You wanted seagulls, you wanted fish. You wanted to curl your painted toes into warm, white mounds of shoreline sand and you wanted to bask on a beach towel beneath the blazing, garish Eos sun until the palm trees cast evening shadows across your skin.

You wanted to go to Galdin Quay.

You and Iris hadn’t been since you were kids, but at this point in time, it seemed like the only place in Eos that offered the kind of escape that you were looking for. Between the two of you, you had enough gil to stay at The Quayside Cradle for two nights and then the beachside rental caravan for another two nights — not to mention plenty of risotto, steamed crab and cooked fish at the diner throughout.

It was the perfect getaway. It was a _deserved_ getaway — more so for Iris than it was for you. She’d suffered at the hands of the Imperial Army far more than you had, and you wanted nothing more than to relieve that suffering with something that would, undoubtedly, cheer her up. Based on the conversations and the planning that the two of you indulged in, she _was_ cheered. In fact, she couldn’t have been more excited about the trip. She’d even gone so far as to make a day-to-day itinerary to ensure that _everything_ about Galdin Quay was taken advantage of, and that couldn’t have thrilled you any more than it already had.

_This was going to be perfect!_

It wasn’t until the night before departure, however, that your plans had changed. Just as you’d finished packing and securing your travel bags, Iris had come to your bedroom wearing an expression of only the utmost guilt. After an unsettling amount of averted gazes, shifting weight and saddened sighs, she’d finally declared that it wouldn’t just be the two of you vacationing out to Galdin Quay in the morning.

 _“Gladio’s coming with us,_ ” she had said. “ _Gladio, and… well, the others. I’ve invited them all along. They’re picking us up in the morning, and we’re riding with them down to Galdin.”_

You weren’t as upset at the announcement as you’d have liked to be. Though this vacation was crafted for the sole purpose of making Iris happy, you couldn’t truly say that the additional party members would act against that. Iris was always cheerful in the company of her older brother, though Noctis… No amount of spoiling would surpass the elation that she felt when she was around the Crown Prince of Lucis. You may have been her best friend, but Noctis Caelum was… well, Noctis Caelum. You’d had your sneaking suspicions that the only reason she’d extended the invitation to them was in hopes of him coming along, though even so, you had no real room to complain. If that’s what Iris wanted to do, then that’s what would happen. It did, however, disappoint you a little bit — it had been planned, originally, as a _girl’s_ getaway. Now, with four males being added to the equation, there was no telling how off-course the itinerary would go.

Would you even _get_ to spend time with Iris? Would this vacation still be just as fun as you’d intended for it to be with the others there?

Despite this disappointment, however, you’d assured Iris that you didn’t mind the addition. A vacation was a vacation, wasn’t it? There were still plenty of ways for you to enjoy yourself, even it it _was_ by yourself. Even if she’d dedicated most of her time clinging to the Prince’s arm, you could still follow the itinerary.

**Couldn’t you?**

It had appeared, of course, that a good night’s sleep hadn’t done Iris any good as far as assurances went. As the two of you waited outside of the house in Cape Caem the following morning, she wanted — no, _needed —_  more than just a “I don’t mind” from you in order to put her mind at ease.

 

 

“You keep _saying_ that, but —"

“I _promise_ that I don’t mind!” You pledged, adding just the right amount of emphasis and assertion to your tone to seem convincing. “Really. I don’t. We can still do everything that we planned to do with them there. Who knows…” you trailed off, the humbling purr of an engine nearing the peninsula from somewhere in the distance. “It may even be more fun with them there. More people, more entertainment. Right?”

“ _Right_!” Came the younger Amicitia from the porch, all worry and uncertainty in her tone of voice instantaneously replaced with excitement, warmth and complete relief. “I was hoping that you’d see it that way! Maybe they’ll even pitch in for staying at the Cradle for all four nights rather than just our planned two… Because, I don’t know about you, but I _really_ don’t want to stay in that rental caravan…”

You couldn’t help but grin. The fact that you were —  _seemingly —_  on board with Iris’s change of plans had really upped her spirit. In truth, you really _should_ give it the benefit of the doubt… It wasn’t the most awful of plans, after all. If you were to think positively on the situation, it was probably for the best… Though you and Iris had been practically inseparable since childhood, there were still instances, though rare, where frequent, continual doses of one another had a tendency of making you disfavor the other’s company. If something like that were to happen out in Galdin Quay, it’d undoubtedly soil the vacation and likely end it earlier than anticipated. With the guys, however, the risk wasn’t nearly as great.

Perhaps this method was safer...

“ _Oh!_ ” The brunette suddenly exclaimed from your right, and judging by the dainty thumps against the porch’s creaking wood, she was jumping to get a better view of the humming engine that now settled into the parking lot at the base of Cape Caem’s declivitous hill. “They’re here! C’mon, let’s go!”

Bending to scoop up her two beach bags, Iris hoisted both of them onto her shoulders before leaping from the porch’s steps and landing clumsily in the sandy walkway. “You shouldn’t have packed your entire wardrobe,” you playfully scolded, rising from your position on the porch’s lower stair before hoisting your own two bags onto your shoulders.

“I didn’t,” she grunted, adjusting her straps accordingly until the weight of them were comfortably distributed and she no longer wobbled or hunched when she walked. “I just…” another grunt, “... packed the bare necessities…”

“Which, in Iris speak, is… what? Everything?” You teased, quickening your pace only briefly until the two of you trudged down the sabulous hill side-by-side — each of your sandals quickly filling with granular sand and wedging uncomfortably between your toes as you fought to maintain proper posture.

By the time the guys and the Regalia — Gods, the _Regalia —_  came into view, Prompto — dressed in a pair of sea-blue swim trunks, a white halter-top and a pair of beige beach sandals of his own — quickly lunged from his lounged position against the car’s passenger door and rushed straight for you and Iris.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” He called out, right hand immediately going for one of the bags on your shoulders before curling his fingers around the strap and hoisting it down your arm. “What all — _Etro_ , what all did you _pack?_ It feels like there's nothing but rocks in here!”

“It’s not rocks!" You countered. "It’s… beachwear. Clothes, towels, shoes, toiletries. Enough for five days.”

“Girl’s got to pack what a girl’s got to pack,” Iris chimed in, hoisting her own bags from her shoulders and handing them off to Gladio — who’d quickly left his position against the Regalia, as well, to assist in collecting luggage.

“We’ll be lucky to fit these in the trunk…” he muttered, the deep, resonating rumble of his voice snaring your attention and drawing your gaze to the inked wings that sleeved both of his flexing arms as he effortlessly carried Iris’s bags towards the back of the Regalia. Much to your surprise, he wasn’t shirtless — rather, he was clad in his own pair of crimson-red swim trunks accompanied with a black halter-top and black sandals.

“Yeah, well,” came Prompto, taking your second bag from you before pulling his mouth back in the usual, puckish schoolboy grin before carrying both totes back to the Regalia.  “We’ll make ‘em fit. Even if we have to hold them.”

Over in the Northeast end of the parking lot, Prince Noctis and Ignis were standing side-by-side in front of  the truckside shop — perusing its contents and chatting idly with the attendant. As to be expected, the Prince was clad in all black from head-to-toe — black shorts, black halter top and black sandals while Ignis sported something a little more… bright, in shades of forest green and off-white. They both looked ready for the beach, though Noctis’s usual and customary posture and facial expression said otherwise.

At that moment, he’d turned his head — glacial blues peering through stray locks of raven-black to meet your curious stare. Even from across the parking lot, you could tell that they were unblinking — the stark contrast of them against his hair solid and steady as they held your gaze for several long, drawn-out moments before Iris suddenly exclaimed from your side.

“Hey, Noctis!”

He blinked then, angling his head a fraction to catch Iris’s bright, joyful gaze as she waved an arm back and forth in greeting. The corner of his mouth lifted, and stiffly, he untucked one of his hands from his crossed arms and held up several splayed fingers in a stationary wave. By that time, Ignis had generously paid the attendant for their purchase, and after fitting everything inside of a single brown paper bag, the two had turned their backs to the roadside shop and casually made their way back toward everyone else.

“They have a shop in Galdin, y’know,” Prompto pointed out, his body bent and forearms stretched across the luggage lining the trunk of the Regalia and using his upper-body to press down in an attempt to securely fit everything. The boys only brought a grand total of four bags — one belonging to each — though with the addition of you and Iris’s, it was a… near-impossible fit, though the golden-haired sharpshooter was dedicated to making it work.

“If you hadn’t paid any mind, Prompto, you’d know that the shop in Galdin is considerably more expensive than the one here in Caem,” Ignis countered, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other cradled the paperbag of supplies. “I, unlike you, am fond of saving gil anywhere that I can. Given that we’ll likely be spending a great deal of it throughout the course of the week, it’s best that we take the initiative of saving pre-arrival.”

“Good thinking, Iggy.” Taking several long, solid strides around the parked Regalia, whose trunk was still open with a still-struggling Prompto, Gladio generously took the bag of supplies from Ignis’s grasp. “We’ll have to put these on the floorboard,” he said. “There’s no more room in the trunk, and —”

“— and we have two additional passengers that likely won’t fit, either.” Ignis affirmed, the pale green of his eyes squinting against the morning sunlight to coolly regard you and Iris.

“I can fit in the middle,” she said, a hand shooting skyward as if to say ' _pick me!_ ’

A sense of unease quickly clutched at your nerves. If there wasn’t any room left in the Regalia for you, how were you supposed to ride with them? There _was_ a chocobo-rental machine in Caem, and if push came to shove, you could easily rent one for the —

“She’ll fit,” Gladio husked, the rich amber of his eyes clearing the parking lot to catch your worried gaze. “She can sit on my lap, if she has to. The drive isn’t that far… An hour, at most. With the top down, there’ll be plenty of room. Don’t worry.”

An entirely new sense of unease came over you. You’d known Gladio for as long as you’d known Iris — it wasn’t as if the thought of sitting on his lap disturbed you. In fact, it was the complete opposite. It was the thought of sitting on his lap for an _hour_ that disturbed you, positioning yourself just right in order to use the back dash of the Regalia as leverage with every dip, curve and turn of the steep, southern Eos roads.

_Great._

“There! Done!” Triumphantly, Prompto grasped the Regalia’s trunk lid with both hands before closing it smoothly — the luggage within securely and successfully tucked into the hollow crevice. “We’re good to go, baby!”

“Excellent. Let us be on with it, then. We have quite the scenic drive ahead of us.” Ignis declared, crossing the crunchy gravel of the parking lot to the driver’s seat. Prompto, after dusting off the palms of his hands, corned the back end of the car in a sprint to head for the passenger seat while Noctis, Iris and Gladio settled comfortably into their usual positions in the backseat. Even with all three of them seated side-by-side, the fit was snug… Even with sitting on Gladio’s lap, your legs would tangle uncomfortably with everyone else’s...

Not like you had much choice in the matter.

With a soft clear of your throat, you approached the side of the vehicle and stood beside the open suicide-door and Gladio’s right arm lifted and outstretched in invitation. “We’ll make it work, (Y/N),” he assured, waving for you with his hand. “If it’s gets too uncomfortable, there’s a few rest areas on the way. If we need to, we can stop and stretch our legs.”

“I think I’ll be fine! It’s not that far of a drive, after all.”

Swallowing hard, you reached forward — right hand on the headrest of Prompto’s seat and left hand on the torrid swell of Gladio’s shoulder. With timed, careful movements of your arms and legs, you’d managed to climb your way into the backseat and, after several position adjustments, you finally took to settling yourself atop Gladio’s lap. All too quickly, you came to find that there was absolutely _no_ room for your feet… The combination of Noctis, Iris and Gladio’s legs filling the space had left you no other choice but to stretch your own across the laps of both Iris and Noctis.

_Oh, God, I’m practically sitting on everyone…_

Iris didn’t seem to mind. Her petite stature wedged between Gladio and Noctis had practically melted her into the Regalia and the weight of your calves rested on nothing but air, though Noctis… It was hard to tell whether he minded or not. Only your feet — clad in cute beach sandals — rested in his lap, though not once did he take an interest in it. Once settling yourself, he’d shifted in his seat — pushing out of a sigh ( _of disbelief?_ ) before propping an elbow onto the Regalia’s door panel and dropping his chin into his palm to take in the scenery of Cape Caem’s parking lot. Beneath your ankles, however, he felt stiff… Like he was afraid to just relax and risk the full pressure of your feet against his thigh.

The moment that Ignis turned over the Regalia and accelerated out of the parking lot, you froze — body yielding against the sway of the car so as to not rock against Gladio. Immediately, he had taken notice — his brute stature rocking with the tremors of a deep, hearty chuckle as the salty breeze of the ocean began to affectionately sift through everyone’s hair as Ignis picked up speed. “Relaaax, (Y/N). The ride’ll be uncomfortable if you stay tense the entire time… Take it easy. You aren’t bothering anyone.”

Pushing out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding, you relaxed, sinking into the muscles of Gladio beneath you as the car disappeared into the tunnel just east of Cape Caem. Darkness enveloped the six of you before beams of gold whizzed past, the lights that lined the tunnel's ceiling providing just enough light to soothe any possible unease with the presence of daemons.

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you closed your eyes — the sounds of spinning tires against the blacktop filling your ears along with the distant rumble of the Regalia reverberating off of the tunnel walls. It was… pleasant; _relaxing_. The smell of salt wasn’t as potent the further you drove away from Caem, but the damp, earthen musk that lingered in the tunnel was just as refreshing. Upon your exhale, you slowly opened your eyes…

… to the Crown Prince looking right at you.

Beneath the dark, swaying curtains of his wind-tousled hair, the cold, frigid blue of those bright irises shone through. His expression was blank — just as blank as it had been back in the parking lot — though rather than chalking it up to an accidental glance, he didn’t look away…

Once your eyes had caught his, he held them.

And so did you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart credit goes to my darling [Annie](http://thedreamingreaper.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much!


	2. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome to Galdin Quay."
> 
> After settling in, very unexpected beach festivities ensue.

The Lucian Cruisin’ Collection had always been a little humdrum and uninspiring, in your opinion — with it’s strange rhythms and eccentric pitches that belonged on the distorted loudspeaker of a corporate lobby or medical office rather than a public broadcasting station. With the exceptions of ‘Easy Rider’ and ‘Gone’, which Gladio had idly bounced a knee to in rhythm with the song’s hyperbolic guitar solos, everything else had dotingly lulled you to lethargy. Much to your surprise, however, no one else seemed to mind the monotony. Prompto had taken to loosely crossing and draping his arms on top of the Regalia’s door panel before lowering his head to rest against them, though his head still bobbed and swayed with the music while Ignis unwittingly tapped his index and middle fingers against the steering column.

To your immediate left, you could hear Iris humming — the dainty drawl of her voice coming and going with the mollifying wind that dusted everyone’s cheeks with a pale shade of pink. Throughout the course of the drive thus far, she had been the one to initiate most of the passing conversations; ' _What do you guys want to do when we get there? Do you plan to fish? I hear they have masseurs! Can you imagine what the glowing barrelfish will look like at night? I can’t wait to rent a chocobo and ride it down the beach while the sun sets! If you didn’t bring any sunscreen, don’t worry , (Y/N) and I brought plenty.'_

You hadn’t looked at Noctis again since the first tunnel outside of Cape Caem. After a disquisitive question from Iris, he’d broken the stare with a careful flex of his jaw before impassively humoring her with an answer. You seized that opportunity to look away, to focus on anything and everything that wasn’t located on that side of the backseat. You’d even made a comment about the can of Ebony that Ignis clutched between his fingers and took an odd, somewhat perverse interest in the way that his throat flexed when he swallowed down a mouthful of it and the way that he clicked his tongue against his palate to protract the taste.

_Gods._

“You still alright?” Gladio had grated next to your ear, the rich timbre of his voice enough to make you physically shudder. “You keep shifting. We can pull over if —”

“Oh, no!” You interjected with a shake of your head. “I’m fine. You’re just… uh, really hard to sit on.”

It had taken a moment for the realization to strike you, though once it did, your cheeks burned from the onslaught of blood that swiftly darkened them. The fact that Gladio hadn’t responded right away did nothing but exacerbate the situation, but what he had to say next made you want to throw yourself from the backseat of the Regalia.

“That’s not the first time a woman’s told me that.”

“Gladdy!” Iris shouted, a look of utter disbelief claiming the girlish contours of her face as she catapulted a balled fist into the bulk of his arm. “Don’t be such a _tool_.”

The older Amicitia brushed it off with another hearty chuckle, muttering something about “jokes” before relaxing into the leather of the seat and falling silent as the Lucian Cruisin’ Collection chimed dishearteningly through the Regalia’s speakers and ultimately ebbed you to dormancy.

_Six, just GET me OUT of this car before I decide to sit on the back dash for the rest of the way… I’ll look at nothing but my hands, I swear it. Thanks, Iris… Thanks for sticking me in your brother’s lap with nothing to look at but —_

“If that’s Angelgard, then is that…? _Is that it_?! Oh, Gods, it’s so PRETTY! It’s changed SO MUCH! (Y/N)! (Y/N), look!” Iris curled her fingers into your sheer pullover, tugging excitedly as she pointed at the clear, cyan waters that gently lapped at a whitesand shoreline nestled at the bottom of a broad, expansive hill of zig-zag roads and flourishing vegetation.

_Thank. Shiva._

“Helloooo, Galdin Quay!” Prompto straightened his posture in the front seat and pressed the side of his hand against his forehead, shielding his eyes from the morning sunlight to get a better look at the seaside resort as the Regalia began it’s anticipating descent down the sloping roadway. “I’m glad that I brought my camera! Would you take a look at that _view_ …”

“A magnificent sight, indeed… We’ve made it just in time, too.” Ignis moved his right hand from the wheel and gently tapped at the manual clock that embellished the Regalia’s front dashboard. “With six minutes to spare, in fact. I’ve taken to reserving a suite for our party at the Quayside Cradle, with a check-in time of nine o’clock.”

“What?” You breathed, leaning forward in Gladio’s lap to grasp the sunlit leather of Ignis’s seat. “Ignis, you didn’t need to do that… Iris and I have brought along plenty —”

“Come now, (Y/N), it’s no trouble,” he said dismissively, and though his face was angled toward the road, you could swear that he was smiling. “It’s the least that we could do.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed from your right. “Thanks for inviting us along.”

“You guys deserve a vacation just as much as we do!” Iris had leaned forward in her seat, as well, elbows digging into your shins as she used you as leverage to wiggle free from her cinch. “ _Especially_ you, Noct… After everything's that's happened…”

Despite the urge to turn your head and perceive his reaction, you resisted, instead keeping your eyes secured on the large, looming bungalow that settled on sunbleached stilts ahead while Noctis coolly brushed off Iris’s sincerity with a “ _yeah, thanks_ ” and “' _ppreciate it_ ”. Judging by the way she shifted beneath you and giggled afterward, he’d given her a look powerful enough to trigger butterflies.

_Yeah. I know the one._

After Ignis had pulled into Galdin Quay’s parking lot and backed the Regalia beneath the bay, Gladio’s door was the first one to open. “All right, (Y/N). Out you go.”

An hour’s worth of physical inactivity alongside having your legs stretched out had uncomfortably stiffened every muscle from the waist down, and despite your desperate urge to climb out of the backseat yourself, Gladio had encircled your waist with his massive, inked paws and effortlessly hoisted you out and onto the concrete with nothing but a grunt.

“Maybe I should ride shotgun next time,” you teased, twining your fingers together before lifting both arms above your head and stretching yourself onto your tiptoes as everyone else began to exit the vehicle.

Prompto snorted. “Yeah, _no_! We’ll just make him walk back! He's tough enough to fend for himself on the road, aren't you, big guy?”

“Oh, c’mon… It wasn't that bad, was it?”

You spun to look up at him — _all six feet and six inches of him —_  before playfully wrinkling your nose and gently nudging past him to make your way to the back of the Regalia, where Ignis, Noctis and Iris stood trying to disentangle the mess that was everyone’s luggage inside of the trunk. One by one, they hauled out each individual bag before handing them off to their respectful owners, though despite you and Iris’s insistence, Gladio and Prompto had taken responsibility,  _again,_  for your four alongside their two.

Now that you weren't crammed inside of a car with them, you could actually focus on the positives.

Galdin Quay was _everything_ that you'd expected it to be… Postcards, brochures and tableside stories didn't do it justice. The smell of salt, cooked fish and palm oil hung heavy in the seaside breeze, though it acted as more of an aphrodisiac than a “stench”; you found your nerves yielding quite surprisingly to the aroma, in fact. You wanted to breath it in as much as you could.

“Accommodations first,” Ignis declared, the spiked tresses of his sandy locks swaying in perfect tandem with a nearby palm tree. “I'm curious to see the suite… According to the receptionist, it’s suitable for six. Two levels, two bedrooms and two spacious seating areas both upstairs and down, though one bathroom. They should have a fully-stocked kitchen, though…”

“ _One_ bathroom?”

_Here we go._

“Yes, Noct... “ Ignis sighed. “One bathroom. However, despite its singularity, it’s quite sizable. I’ve seen photographs. Not only is it equipped with a walk-in shower, but it’s also equipped with a spacious soaking tub… It even has jets, I hear.”

“Doesn’t matter,” came the pensive Prince. “There’s six of us, and we’ll all be fighting for it.”

“Well, let’s hope the seafood doesn’t upset anyone’s stomach, then…” Gladio jested, clapping him on the back before grasping his shoulder and shaking reassuringly. “Not that big of a deal, Your Majesty,” he mumbled. “We’ll only be spending nights inside of the hotel. Not the entire day. If it’s that rough, though, there’s always the caravan…”

“ _Hell_ no! There’s not even —”

“Then bite the bullet. Just make sure you put the toilet seat down for the girls, yeah?”

The group rumbled with rounded bouts of laughter as Noctis shrugged off Gladio’s arm, though not before firing off a grumbled jest of his own before falling back into his traditional silence as the six of you casually began your jaunt down the sylvan walkway that led to Galdin Quay’s main venue. Even with three bags in tow, Prompto managed to withdraw his camera from his pack’s side pocket to snap random, haphazard photographs of the scenery, turning occasionally to take candids of the group before directing his attention back to the water and the gulls that steadily hovered above it in search for their next meal.

After Ignis had retrieved the keys from the Cradle’s reception booth and unlocked the single door that led to the ‘Quayside Suite’, Iris had swiftly taken a hold of your hand and hauled you through the group, immediately delving for the single staircase that led to the upper quarters before practically dragging you up it as she took the steps two at a time. “We call upstairs!” She shouted over her shoulder, giggling at the now-discouraged Prompto that couldn’t have been but a few feet behind.

The landing was modest, yet modern — the seating area composed of an ivory leather sectional sofa, a matching chaise lounge, a glass coffee table and several wall sconces in the shape of ornate seashells. Lining the walls were several photographs of Galdin’s progression throughout the years, portraying images ranging from an empty, driftwood-littered beach to the thriving attraction that it was today. In the northeast corner of the landing, of course, was the single door leading to the upstairs bedroom.

Iris had pushed her way through first, sandal-clad feet carrying her across the room before launching herself off the ground to drop clumsily onto one of the twin beds.

“I call this one!” She affirmed, face smashed against the pillows as the downy comforter practically swallowed her whole.

In your opinion, the twin bed that sat opposing was way better. It provided a _perfect_ view of the ocean as well as the lighthouse-adorned dock that harbored the ferry, while Iris’s view was of Angelgard. Regardless, though, the bedroom was exceptionally nice. Aside from the beds, there were two oaken dressers, two bedside tables and two handicraft table lamps that sat atop them. Not only that, but the space allotted wasn’t horrendous — you and Iris weren’t right next to each other, like most other trendy hotels liked to warrant. She was on one side of the room while you were on the other. While the layout wasn’t traditional, however, it was certainly preferred, seeing as how she may or may not be bringing a _guest_ into the room in the middle of the —

“Here’s your stuff!”

Prompto stood at the doorway to the bedroom, two bags hanging from the crook of one arm. After bending to set them down against the hardwood, he straightened and turned, addressing someone that stood behind him for the other two bags. Much to your surprise, Noctis had been the one to hand them over rather than Gladio.

“Noct and I are staying in the downstairs bedroom,” he noted, setting down the other two bags before running a hand through his golden hair. “Gladio’s taking the upstairs couch, and Ignis is taking the downstairs one. He’s… closer to the kitchen that way, we think? Not sure. But! After everyone gets settled in, how’s about we hit the beach?”

“Duh!” Iris cheered. “We’ll be down in two shakes! Just need to change!”

* * *

It hadn’t taken long for you and Iris to unload your belongings into the bedroom’s provided dressers. With hardly anything packed other than a multitude of beachwear and pullovers with the additional pair of shorts, a good majority of the drawers were still vastly empty. However, given that everyone would be sharing a bathroom, your toiletry bags needed to be stored in your bedroom, as well — as a common courtesy. Despite the spaciousness of the bathroom, you didn’t wish to clutter the countertop with your hair, makeup and facial cleanser products. Not only would it be impolite, but it’d likely give Ignis an ulcer; he’d been so accustomed to picking up after the Crown Prince of Lucis and ensuring tidiness wherever he could that his sanity couldn’t afford to invite two women into the occasion, as well. Besides, keeping the suite as clean as possible was the very least that you could do — especially since he was kind enough to pay for you and Iris’s portion.

After the both of you had changed into your swimwear and lathered on an appropriate amount of sunscreen, you made your way down to Galdin’s beach. Though laden with sunbathing tourists, you had no trouble locating your group — a motley blend of hair colors as all four of them kicked, swam and dashed through the placid whitecaps. Gladio was the most prominent, of course — his sunkissed skin against the inky black of his tattoos sticking out like a sore thumb as he trudged his way through the rolling waves.

_The Astrals above broke the mould with him, didn’t they?_

Prompto, whose alabaster skin was already tinted with a faint shade a pink, was at his side, hands repeatedly delving into the ocean to frantically splash at his burly companion before turning sharply and awkwardly trekking through the water to flee to a laughing Noctis.

_Ugh… Noctis…_

The tresses of his hair clung together with ocean water, and even against the lambent rays of the sun, you could see droplets fall from the tips of them and land on his cheeks, his shoulders. Even from your distance, you could see his cerulean eyes disappear and reappear as he squeezed his eyes shut in laughter, too engaged in the situation to extend a helping hand to Prompto, who was mercilessly tackled into the water by a lunging Gladio with the most comical yelp that you’d ever heard.

Despite your close relation to the younger sister of the Prince’s Shield, you hadn’t experienced many encounters with Noctis _or_ those affiliated with the royal bloodline, for that matter, until high school — where a strenuous course of Lucian History had ultimately landed the two of you next to each other when the instructor insisted on a seat change between you and Prompto Argentum. It had taken Noctis a few days to stop scowling about the ordeal, but to your surprise, he came around, especially after group projects were assigned and communication was required.

He was intelligent, the Prince. Though physically withdrawn and reticent, he dedicated himself to that of his studies. With a title such as his, bad marks were undoubtedly frowned upon, though a big part of you believed that he wasn’t doing it to please his adviser and King father. No… Despite popular belief, Noctis Caelum was naturally dexterous when it came to schoolwork.

By the end of that term, the instructor had dubiously agreed to allow Prompto back in his original seat under the _sole_ condition that they include you on the final project of the year. With you having done so well in the course thus far, he was happy to oblige — dragging a metal-legged chair up to their bracketed desks for you and formally introducing himself as Noctis’s best friend, though you didn’t need to hear it to know. _Everyone_ knew about their friendship and, judging by the amount of sidelong stares that were cast your way, everyone was envious.

_Envious of the unworthy girl whose father was an ex-Glaive and whose mother fled Insomnia to be with another lover in Duscae._

High school was a nasty, nasty place for a girl. Mistaking your educational camaraderie for some sort of blossoming, polyamorous triangle with Noctis and Prompto, the shameful news of your family’s background spread like wildfire by the mouths of girls who wanted nothing more than to see you out of the picture, and out of the picture you _quickly_ became. After the group project had been completed and the semester had come to a close, Noctis hadn’t spoken to you again. You’d have liked to believe that it was because your schedules didn’t allow for conversation, though you knew… Deep down, you knew. Even after gaining knowledge of your friendship with Iris Amicitia, he still didn’t make it a point to speak to you… Prompto did, of course. Just not the Crown Prince.

… and this was two years ago. Things… have changed, since then.

_Things have changed a lot._

“Over here!”

You blinked out of your reverie, eyes befalling a waving Ignis from the shoreline. He wasn’t sporting his glasses — which, in conjuction the surprising amount of lean, corded muscle that contoured his abdomen — had changed his image entirely. He looked like a Galdin local. A few more hours beneath the Eos sun alongside a surfboard, and he could easily be mistaken for such.

After finding a spot along the beach and setting out your things, Iris had hurriedly dressed down to her ruby-red tankini and rushed off towards the shoreline, kicking up sand in her wake and calling at you from over her shoulder to hurry along.

And you wished, more than anything, that she hadn’t done that.

You didn’t need to look at him to know that he was looking at you, all traces of his laughter gone and replaced with that dark, smoldering stare that either made you want to crawl into a hole or shoot it right back. In this case, unfortunately, it wasn’t the latter. Your insides coiled into a tight, uncomfortable knot, and had he been within arm’s reach of you, you’d have likely pushed his face away just to break that insatiable stare.

But this would be a terrible vacation if you didn’t do something to alleviate the problem. Just because _he_ was here didn’t mean that you had to spend the next few days uptight, bitter and constantly seeking a place away from his prying eyes. If he wanted to look…

… then you’d give him something to look at.

Taking in a slow, deep breath through your nostrils, you shifted your gaze towards him. As expected, he hadn’t wavered — body swaying gently with the ocean’s roiling waves, though his stare remained ultimately fixed. Somewhere deep within your belly, a spark ignited — adrenaline bleeding into your veins and accelerating your heartbeat as both of your hands crossed to slowly curl into the sheer fabric of your fishnet pullover before casually dragging it up the length of your body, lecherously revealing yourself and the obsidian-black bikini that you wore underneath.

You saw his eyes narrow and descend a fraction of a second before his mouth hardened, and even beneath the wisps of his dark, soused hair, you could see his brows pull together.

 _You want to look?_ You thought, pulling the garment above your head and casually dropping it into a heap on one of your strewn-out beach towels, all the while still holding the gaze that darkened in color and seared holes through your very soul. _Then look._

Even as you made your way down the length of the beach and to the shoreline, he watched you — nostrils flaring with each deep intake of breath.

Much to your misfortune, however, Iris had acted as an unwanted distraction, traipsing through the whitecaps with dainty sways of her arms and suddenly stopping right in front of him. “I have _such_ a good idea,” she’d said, lips pulled back to reveal a smirk that could only mean one thing; mischief. “Why don’t we play a game of Chicken?”

Noctis blinked, crystalline hues lowering to meet the younger Amicitia’s cinnamon gaze. “Chicken?”

“Yes! C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t remember Chicken… We used to play it all the time back home! The shoulder game?”

The Prince’s expression softened as he remembered. “Oh… Well, how would we —”

“I call Gladio as my partner,” you suddenly declared, directing your gaze over to the Shield, who wet both of his hands in the ocean before slicking his hair back with both palms.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey! That isn’t fair! He’s bigger than everyone here!” complained Iris, her slender eyebrows furrowed as she pointed at her older brother. “A behemoth can’t even take him down, much less anyone else!”

Gladio smirked at this before casually making his way to your side, one arm descending to gently rest on the swell of your hip while he bent down to speak directly into your ear, “S'all good, (Y/N)... You can hook your legs on my shoulders later...”

“C’mon, dude. Really?” Prompto scoffed, more so out of embarrassment of the situation than anything else, though it still didn’t keep you from laughing.

“I’m _joking._ ” Gladio assured, upturning both of his palms in innocence. “Damn. C’mon, guys… Lighten up a little.”

“Yeah, that’s better!” came Iris. “Anyway. Gladdy and Ignis, the two of you will have to be the scorekeepers… Since you’re, y'know. Taller. Prompto, you’ll be with (Y/N). I’ll be with Noct! First one down loses!”

“YES!” Prompto fisted a passing wave on his way over to you, face beaming with confidence. “We’ll _own_ them, dude. I promise. I may not look like much, but up against Noct, I’m unbeatable!”

“I’m not worried,” you assured with a grin before risking a glance over toward Noctis, who couldn’t have possibly looked any more uncomfortable than he currently did.

Iris clapped her hands together. “In positions, everyone!”

Disappearing beneath the ocean’s surface, Prompto reached forward and curled his fingers around your ankles — using your stance as an indicator of where you were before carefully swimming between your legs and situating his head at the crest of your inner-thighs. His hair was soft and silky against your bare skin, and before he had a chance to plant his feet and lift you out of the water, you carded your fingers through the satiny tresses and idly grazed his scalp with the half-mooned ridges of your fingernails.

With a lunge, he emerged from the water, both of his arms hooked around the crooks of your knees as he skillfully — _and surprisingly —_  supported your weight on top of his shoulders. In front of you, Noctis had managed the same position, his raven hair clinging to his forehead and shielding his view before Iris did him the honor of pushing it aside.

“You ready to rumble, Noct?” came Prompto, who squeezed at your legs encouragingly.

“You’re going down, Prompto. Both of you.”

“Nah. But, by all means, try. We could use a challenge!”

The game had gone exactly as you’d planned for it to. The moment that your hands connected with Iris’s, it was a battle — the two of you pushing, shoving and pulling in every which direction in an attempt to send the other one toppling into the water below. As to be expected, Prompto spouted off as many jabs and jeers as he could muster in hopes of distracting Noctis, though the Crown Prince was determined to see the both of you fall. He had moved with Iris, rooting himself into the soft sand of the ocean floor and bracing himself against every shove and rocked forward with every push. There was a moment or two in which Prompto struggled beneath you — his feet ghosting a rock or a shell and losing his composure for a split second before readjusting himself and tightening his hold on your legs.

The first battle had lasted two minutes. With a shove backward and a pull sideways, Iris had pulled Noctis beneath the surface with her, both emerging moments later in coughs and shakes of their head.

“That one was... skeptical,” came Ignis, the back of his palm rubbing droplets of water from his cheek. “One more time.”

You and Prompto maintained your position while Iris and Noctis reestablished theirs, though once situated, it was on again — more pushing, more shoving and more pulling until, again, Iris had toppled over a second time.

“ _Clearly_ , we’re the masters of Chicken!” Prompto cheered, releasing his grasp on your legs before falling backward to take the both of you underwater.

You’d taken to land shortly after that. After a brief, celebratory cheer at the justified winning of Chicken, you’d trekked through the rolling waves of the ocean and slowly made your way to your designated spot on the beach, hoping that some time beneath the sun would dry the saltwater on your skin and prepare you for round two. Iris had spoken about switching partners for the second time around, though Prompto was unyielding. In the rare instance of the brunette’s insistence, however, you wanted to be ready.

The mere thought of being on Noctis’s shoulders was enough to make you nervous, and you needed preparation if that were to even happen.

Dropping down onto your beach towel, you stretched out — the sun’s heat immediately caressing at your bare legs like a lover and drying away the stray droplets of the ocean. Pushing out a sigh, you lifted an arm to rest above your head while the other took up residence at your side, eyes closing against the garish rays as they bore directly down onto you while the sounds of Iris’s shouts tickled at your eardrums as Gladio mercilessly slung her into the depths of the ocean just like an older brother would.

 _Gods, this place was Heaven…_ You were so _happy._ Despite the eclipsed maelstrom that was Noctis’s eyes, everything else was going fantastically. Though you didn’t fully agree with it at first, (for selfish reasons), you quickly came to realize that having the guys tag along for the trip to Galdin couldn’t have possibly been a better idea. They brought about a certain light, a certain _excitement_ to the vacation that wouldn’t have been there had it just been you and Iris, and this was only the first _day_. It also didn’t hurt that all four of them were alarmingly handsome, to boot…

You thought back to the car ride — to the thick, sinewy muscle of Gladio’s lap beneath your thighs and the way that his voice razed when he spoke next to your ear. You thought back to the way Ignis’s mouth parted and loosely fastened to the lip of his Ebony can and the way that he consumed its contents. You thought back to the way Prompto’s hair felt beneath the water as it brushed between your legs. You thought back to Noct —

“Hey.”

As they’d spoken, a chilled bead of seawater had fallen and popped against your cheek just as a silhouette had stepped in front of the sun and cast your face into shadow. Knitting your brows, you leisurely peered through a squinted eye, irises slowly lifting to meet the brooding, downcast stare of Noctis himself.  His arms were crossed loosely against his chest, hip angled a fraction to the right as he rested the majority of his weight on one sand-sheathed foot.

“Hi.”

“Um…” he pushed out a sigh, the tips of his drying hair rippling from the sudden gust. In certain places, it still dripped from the ocean — peppering his pale shoulders and chest with wet, clarion starbursts that mirrored the overhead sun. “You ready to go again?”

You propped yourself onto your elbows, one leg bending to rest the sole of your foot against the beach towel beneath you while the other one remained straight and pointed. “‘Go again’?” You repeated, a single eyebrow craning skyward.

“Yeah,” he replied casually. “For Chicken.”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll just let Promp—”

“He’s partnering with Iris.”

A brief moment of silence enveloped the both of you — you with your eyebrow raised and he with his arms crossed — though before his dark, habitual stare could fringe your nerves, you quickly spoke.

“So, I’ll be with…?”

"Me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GAAAAASP!*  
> Alright, not only have we situated ourselves more comfortably within the scene, but we've also received a bit of insight as far as where Noctis and the Reader stand. While it doesn't go into TOO much detail, it does reveal the basic gist. 
> 
> Now, a few key points that I'd like to address:  
> \- While (canon-wise) Iris is considerably younger than Noctis & party, I've decided to tack on a few years for the sake of the story and getting all of the pieces to fit accordingly. SORRY!  
> \- In the game, the Quayside Cradle looks NOTHING like I had described. Let's overlook that and pretend that it actually does, yea'?  
> \- Despite the reader's fantasies about Gladio and his tattoos, this is still Noctis-based.  
>  ~~Unless people want it to be both, then it'll be fucking both.~~
> 
>  
> 
> I SINCERELY HOPE PEOPLE ENJOYED THIS, despite it's length!


	3. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS, GUYS. HERE IT IS. I spent WAY too long on this chapter, but hot DAYUM, here it IS. I literally went from 7,000+ words to 15,000+ words after posting this, but I THINK YOU WILL ENJOY EVERY MINUTE OF IT BECAUSE JESUS I SURE DID. I had a freaking BLAST writing it.
> 
> ENJOY. ENJOY, ENJOY, ENJOOOOY. <3

“I still think this is, like, _totally_ unfair. We were _whoopin’_ on you guys! (Y/N)... (Y/N), I didn’t agree to this. I promise that I didn’t,” Prompto waded to your side, tawny eyebrows pulled together in unease before extending a dripping finger and pointing incredulously over at Iris. “ _She_ ’s the one who wants to change partners. If we’re being honest, though, I think it’s just because she’s tired of Noctis not being able to hold her.”

“Hey,” the Prince husked from somewhere behind you, “I can hold her just fine.”

After his disclosure about the partner alteration back on the beach, you’d grudgingly lifted yourself from your beach towel and dusted off the encrusted sand from your calves before vocalizing your compliance. While you’d expected a discouragement in Iris from her recurrent loss, you weren’t wholly convinced that she’d even be willing to _trade_ partners — given the circumstance. That didn’t, however, eliminate the possibility of it happening altogether. The fact that you and Prompto had done so well during the first round was _almost_ enough to ensure your safety, but if you’d known Iris at all, you’d know that she was just like her older brother in many, many aspects — an ornery indisposition to losing a game or sport being one of them.

Still, though… As much as the thought of straddling Noctis’ shoulders brought a warm, blossoming heat to the pit of your stomach, you psychologically hoped that the situation would be avoided at all costs. Though your tactile disrobing stint elevated your confidence around the Crown Prince of Lucis — _especially_ with the blatant way that he reacted to it — that didn’t necessarily mean that you wanted to be quick in letting him _touch_ you.

_Especially not during something as unflattering as a game of Chicken._

It was a start, though… Wasn’t it? The whole purpose of removing your pullover in front of him in the first place was to show assertion. A sidelong glance here and a brooding stare there may have inwardly rattled you, but there was no way that you’d allow it to bleed into your body language for his recognition and observance any longer. For the sake of this vacation’s success and prosperity, you’d have to bite back. For your own _peace of mind_ , you’d have to bite back. Though his abrupt disregard of your very existence was two years ago, you couldn’t lead him to believe that you still had a wound to lick…  And why would you, anyway? The most that you’d been was classmates — nothing more, nothing less. Every now and then, however, you’d wonder… Wonder why a classmate would brush off the daughter of a Lucian woman who’d fallen out of love with a former Glaive soldier.

Did he believe that it reflected who _you_ were? Did he consider it disrespectful? Disreputable? _Shameful?_

The answer wasn’t important. You’d graduated high school in the top tier of your class with your own hopes and dreams for a flourishing future, and whether or not you were affiliated with King Regis’ Chosen son would do naught to change that — even if his cold dismissal _did_ bruise your pride more than it rightfully should have.

 _You’ve got this… You’ve got this…_ You had told yourself, toes sinking into the sun-soaked sand as you trekked across the beach and back down toward the ocean’s shoreline — Noctis’ indolent footfalls not far behind you before the dry crunch of the sand gave way to the tranquil wallow of the ocean lapping at your ankles. It wasn’t until you were waist-deep that Prompto drudged to your side in grievance, a single finger pointed in Iris’ direction as he issued blame where blame was due.

“I just think that we need to change things up,” the elfin brunette insisted with a shrug, fingers leisurely dabbing at the water’s rippling surface as she exchanged looks between an afflicted Prompto and a somber Prince. “Sorry, Noct — I’m not trying to give you the boot! We just need to keep the playing field as fair as possible.”

“Fine by me.”

With a dispiriting, yet apologetic glance, Prompto softly knuckled your arm — mumbling a reticent ‘sorry’ before pushing off from the ocean floor and swimming over toward a gratified Iris. “Gladio, Ignis! On your count!” She’d shouted to her brother, who responded with a thumbs-up before turning his head to regard you and Noctis.

“Go on,” he roused. “Let’s get this over with so we can go get something to eat. I’m starving. If we stay in the ocean for much longer, we’ll wrinkle up like prunes.”

“Now that you mention it…” Ignis spoke, arms crossing against his chest as he craned his head to the side in thought. “How about the losing party supply the gil for lunch at the Mother of Pearl? It’s a good incentive, I feel. Surely, it’ll raise the tensions…”

Gladio chuckled darkly. “Iris? You plan on buying everyone lunch?”

“What? _No!_ ”

“Then get to it. You have a game to win.” At the end of his sentence, he shifted his russet gaze over toward you — the pearly-whites of his anteriors surfacing beneath smirking lips as the tip of tongue licked intently at the corner of his mouth just as his right eye sealed in a wink. “ _Super_ starving…”

_Whoa… Did he…? Did he just…? Oh, my G—_

“Let’s kick some ass.”

Noctis’ closeness had startled you. While flagrantly engrossed in Gladio, he’d silently managed to trek through the water and come to rest at your immediate side, though you hadn’t even noticed it until he’d spoken. With a jolt, you’d broken Gladio’s gaze to turn your head to meet that of Noctis’ — but he wasn’t looking at _you_...

He was looking at Gladio.

The look couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but the sheer intensity of it was enough to make you shiver… Was that _annoyance_ in the Prince’s eyes? The skin between his eyebrows creased as they pulled together, his jaw clenched, tight and pulsing while the dark fringe of his eyelashes framed a tempestuous glare, though the moment you turned to perceive it, his expression immediately softened.

“Okay,” you’d said after a moment, giving a curt nod of conformity. “Let’s do it.”

Unlike Prompto, Noctis wasn’t gentle. Shortly after ducking beneath the swells, his hands were on you — calloused palms grating the backs of your thighs as he spread you open just enough to situate his head in between before establishing his posture and hoisting you effortlessly from the water. Once fully surfaced, however, you careened unsteadily — hands descending to grasp at the Prince’s wrists to keep yourself grounded, though not before his own fingers tightened inflexibly around your legs. You responded by hooking your feet behind the swell of his carved hips, further securing yourself atop his shoulders and, unquestioningly, quelling the flurry of supercharged emotions that plagued your fluctuating heart by desperately tunneling your concentration on your competition rather than the heat that exuded from the Prince’s skin to warm your own.

 _Concentrate... Concentrate… God, he feels_ **_so_ ** _good, though… So warm, so soft, so strong..._

“You ready, (Y/N)?” Iris inquired, fingers wiggling playfully as she outstretched both of her palms toward you. Like you and Noctis, she and Prompto had gotten into position just as swiftly with an unyielding determination to win the final round, though you couldn’t help but notice her feeble bearings… Despite the hold that Prompto had on her legs, she didn’t take the precautionary measures that you had. Her legs weren’t locked behind her partner, nor was she fully stationed on top of his shoulders — posture slack, inert and borderline uncomfortable as the both of them swayed against the gentle roll of oncoming waves.

_This was going to be too easy._

“Sorry, Prompto,” came Noctis from beneath you. “Looks like you’re dishing out lunch today.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that!”

After Gladio and Ignis had given the signal, the battle was on once again — both Prompto and Noctis closing the distance between them until you and Iris were close enough to seize one another. You could feel Prompto’s defiance with every exerting push and pull against Iris, though the same could be said about you and Noctis — he held onto you so tightly that you barely budged whenever Iris had the advantage. Before long, a sting began to materialize beneath the unyielding grasp of his fingers and you  _knew_ that gil-sized bruises were likely to blossom from the pressure, though as much as that thought _should_ have troubled you, it didn’t. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect…

_Get it together, girl._

A minute of contending had passed before lengthening into two. Iris, despite her persistence, quickly fought for each intake of salty air as the muscles in her arms began to scream in protest with each push and shove, but finally, after another calculated drag and pull sideways, she indignantly yielded to your advances and toppled, alongside Prompto, down into the ocean.

**To the victor belong the spoils.**

* * *

No one had bothered with a shower first. Fresh from the sea, everyone gathered their discarded belongings of shirts, shoes and towels from the beach before migrating straight for the seaside chalet that housed the Mother of Pearl, Coctura Arlund’s notorious seafood restaurant and Galdin Quay’s most illustrious attraction. Everyone in Eos favored her dishes — many of which were featured in societal cooking magazines throughout cities like Lestallum, Altissia and even Insomnia before it had fallen. Aside from the luxuries of the beach itself, Coctura’s restaurant was another fundamental reason why you wanted to bring Iris to Galdin Quay; she _loved_ fish. Steamed, fried, grilled — there wasn’t a recipe that she wouldn’t try.  On top of that, she’d always wanted to try the Galdin Trevally, as well — freshly caught and cooked from the ocean rather than sealed into plastic and frozen only to be thawed days later.

Much to your (pleasant) surprise, Ignis was also looking forward to indulging in the seaside cuisine. Tucked away in the pocket of his swim trunks was a notebook — grey in colour and smoothly textured — and within it, a multitude of bulleted ingredients and cooking instructions pertaining to the meals that the boys have eaten throughout the cities, towns and outposts dotting the expanse of Eos.

“ _Iggy likes to keep track of the dishes that we eat so that he can recreate them whenever we camp,_ ” Prompto had casually explained. “ _He thinks that it saves us money, but some of the ingredients that he uses are weirdly expensive…  Like, there’s this meaty sirloin from a Jabberwock up at the Meldacio Hunter HQ shop…”_

Their conversations amused you. Truly. Though they liked to poke fun at Ignis for his sprightly interests in cooking and efficiency, not once did they complain — if anything, the amount of praise that underlined each joke and jest was sorely evident simply by the way that they dispensed them. A warm glance here, a humbled chuckle there… Though it wasn't publicly disclosed, it was _obvious_ that the royal adviser was the adhesive that kept the boys together.

 _Especially_ Noctis.

“Noct… You’ve a hole in your trunks,” he’d commented shortly after the six of you had taken your seats at one of the more spacious, elongated tables settled at the restaurant's rear. “A small one, albeit, though still a hole, nonetheless.”

Directly across the table from you, Noctis craned his head enough to glance down at his lap — tiers puckering as he regarded the tear with a moment’s silence before shifting his gaze toward Ignis. “You can barely see it,” he quietly asserted. “Like, at all. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nonsense,” came Ignis, his tone of voice calm and sanguine as he fingered the perspiration that accumulated along the drinking glass that’d been provided for the table by the waiter shortly after being seated. “Give them to me back at the hotel for mending. Assuming that those are your only trunks, we can’t allow even the smallest of fissures to worsen. Lest you want to be _without_ trunks for the remainder of the trip, of course.”

From your side, Iris diffused a girlish giggle. “That’d shock the locals, wouldn’t it? The Crown Prince skinny-dipping in the ocean?”

“Shhh…” Gladio hushed her discreetly before dragging his eyes along the surrounding tables, surveying the expressions of their occupants for any sign of Noctis’s discovery before slouching his shoulders in a sigh once he found the coast to be clear. “Iris, _try_ and keep your voice down when you use terminology like that…” he warned deeply. “Once Noctis is made, this vacation is over. Do you understand?”

“You worry too much, Gladdy,” she confidently replied. “No one’s listening _that_ closely to us. Relax! Look at your menu,” she paused, waving dainty fingers toward the laminated carte that sat before him, “and decide on what you want for lunch. Prompto and I are buying!”

From the other side of Iris, you heard a whimsical scoff. “ _You_ aren’t buying anything. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made the lady split the bill with me? You don’t need to worry about it, Iris. I’ll take care of lunch.”

“An appropriate punishment for bailing on me,” you playfully chimed in, teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheek to stifle a laugh as Prompto rested his forearm against the table and leaned forward to gawk bewilderingly over at you.

“You can’t blame me!” He whined, wheat-coloured eyebrows furrowing in grief. “It wasn’t my decision!”

“No, but it was a smart one on Iris’ part.. Had (Y/N) been with you, _I’d_ be the one paying for lunch,” Noctis spoke coolly, the smoldering pools of his irises lifting from his menu to acknowledge Prompto and his anguish. Though his tone of voice insinuated a sense of earnestness, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Better you than me, right?”

Before you even had an opportunity to perceive Prompto’s reaction, an ice cube had been launched spontaneously across the table, colliding into the Prince’s cheek with a _pwlop!_ before splintering into several pieces after connecting with the polished hardwood of the floor below. Immediately, Ignis’ cheeks darkened in colour, the rosy blush gradually spreading down the stem of his neck as he buried his face into the palm of his hand. “Noct, don’t even dignify that with —”

The Prince’s fingers were already in his own drinking glass, scooping up a handful of solidified cubes before launching them one after the other at Prompto, who skillfully ducked out of their way before suddenly straightening his posture and falling silent as they soared past him only to bounce and roll into the sea of legs that occupied a cluster of nearby tables. Several people glanced down at their feet in curiosity, toeing at the melting cubes with perplexed expressions though otherwise thinking nothing of it.

Much like Iris, your hands were clasped tightly over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as silent laughter rocked your stature and tinted your cheeks while Ignis’ mortified position hadn’t faltered. Gladio, on the other hand, didn’t seem even remotely phased — teeth deliberately chewing on his lower-lip as his gaze shifted from one menu item to the next, silently debating on whether or not he wanted the steamed crab or the Galdin Gratin.

Ignis spoke low. “Are you done?”

Shamelessly, you snorted into your cupped palms as Noctis feigned an expression of only the utmost innocence. “With what?” He asked unconcernedly, bringing the embarrasingly-empty glass of water to his mouth before taking a slow, calculated sip.

“With being a bloody _child._ ”

“ _Me?_ ” Noctis looked incredulous. “Prompto started —”

“I don’t _care_ ,” came the adviser, finally withdrawing his reddened face from the palm of his hand and casting the Prince a look of raw, unbridled indignation. “It’s childish and callow for His Highness to indulge in such mischief. At the _dinner table_ , no less.”

Noctis clenched his jaw in response, though said nothing else on the matter. As tight as his expression suddenly became, you could still perceive the glint of amusement in his eyes when he glanced over at Prompto, who wrinkled his nose derisively at the Prince before finally directing his attention to the Mother of Pearl’s diversified menu and casually inquiring about the tomato sauce on one of the dishes listed. The conversation had flowed relatively smoothly after that, the blood progressively draining from Ignis’ face and returning to it’s natural colour as he immersed himself in talk of food preparation while the boys shared a number of campside stories involving his portable makeshift kitchen and how he liked to maintain it.

You’d learned that, on occasion, Ignis would wake Noctis at the break of dawn to request assistance in making breakfast. While Prompto and Gladio would snore soundly from inside of the Shield's _Coleman_ tent, Ignis would look over Noctis’ shoulder and instruct him on how to whip and stir the biscuit gravy, often times resulting in having to dump the pot out into the wilderness from the Prince’s lack of compliance.

“ _Because of that, we eat a lot of toast in the mornings,”_ Gladio had admitted with a grin, ignoring the scowl that Noctis sent his way in response. “ _Ignis tries to teach him the bare necessities of life, but some things are just a lost cause._ ”

By the time that everyone was served their ordered dishes, moans of approval erupted from every end of the table. You and Ignis had ordered the steamed crab with crushed rock salt — such of which was quickly surveyed before being jotted down — while Iris, Noctis and Prompto applauded the aromatic delicacies of the White Fish in Tomato Sauce. Gladio had settled with that of the Galdin Gratin — an intentional and expensive selection that was meant to make Prompto cringe on account of his earlier initiation with the ice cube. It wasn’t, however, enough to spoil the mood; after the sharpshooter’s first bite of his own meal, gil was the _last_ thing on his mind.

The six of you ate in perfect silence, the harmonious chime of silverware clinking against porcelain acting as the more appropriate and suitable form of conversation as Coctura Arlund’s notorious dishes were consumed down to the last drop of sauce — hums and sighs of satisfaction emerging throughout the duration to symbolize the excellent quality of each freshly-cooked meal.

“I’m gonna go pay my respects to the chef,” Gladio rumbled after he’d finished, wiping at the corners of his mouth with an unfolded napkin before setting it down onto his empty plate and rising to his feet. “It’s necessary for something so oustanding.”

“No, he’s not,” Iris whispered to you, pressing her shoulder against yours and giggling quietly. “He’s gonna go hit on her. Gladdy’s always had a thing for Coctura — ever since first seeing her publications in the magazines. Now that she’s close enough to physically _touch,_ he’s gonna take his chances.”

 _Good,_ you thought, remembering back to the smoldering stare that he’d given you back at the beach alongside that _thing_ that he did with his tongue. While it made you shudder with a strange, deviating sense of excitement, you couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact that he’d be channeling that sensuality to someone else — possibly (hopefully) for the remainder of the trip. You weren’t sure how to behave beneath such a carnal gaze, anyway — especially when such a gaze belonged to your best friend’s older brother. To even _think_ about engaging in any type of sexual activity with him was a violation all in itself… _Right?_

_What happened to your newfound sense of sexual assertion, (Y/N)?_

“Have fun with that one, big guy,” Prompto jeered, clapping Gladio on the back as he rounded the table to make his way to the grill that centered the open bungalow. “Well... That, uh, may or may not be the last that we see him tonight...”

“Let him have his fun,” Ignis sighed with contentment, falling lax atop his seat before dragging a hand across his belly in fulfillment. “This is a vacation, after all; indulge in what you can. I daresay, though… This has to have been the _best_ seaside cuisine that I’ve ever had. I wonder how she goes about crafting the butter for the crab meat… Simply exquisite.”

As to be expected, Iris had come to love the White Fish — exhaling deeply through her nostrils with each bite of the svelte poultry before closing her eyes to further relish the exceptional compound of herbs and spices. Even after the fish had disappeared from her plate, she’d taken to dragging her index finger through the leftover tomato sauce before popping the tip into her mouth to savor the remnants. “I told you that you’d love it,” you’d told her with a triumphant grin before sighing comfortably as the pixie-brunette dropped her head to rest on your shoulder.

“Thank you for wanting to come here,” she expressed with a small smile.

“It’s not _all_ me. We came up with this plan together.”

“I know, but you knew how much I’d like it. We’re not even through our first day here, and the _last_ thing that I want to do is leave. Maybe we can move down to the Vannaugh Coast after this. Always be within walking distance of the beach… God, wouldn’t that be great…”

“And expensive,” you quipped, chuckling quietly at the way Iris sighed her agreement. “We should just enjoy it while we can. Make the most of it while we’re here, you know?”

“And make the most of it we certainly will.” Furrowing your brows, you turned your head and lifted your chin to perceive the older Amicitia at the head of the table, a smug expression gracing the rugged contours of his facial expression as he clutched two pieces of parchment between his fingers.

“Coctura shut you down already?” Noctis bantered, lips rolling together to hide a smile.

“Not at all. As a matter of fact, we’re having drinks at the end of her shift, _Your Highness._ _After_ we tackle some troublemakers, that is.” One after the other, Gladio laid out the pieces of parchment on top of the table, angling the grainy posters so that they faced everyone that was seated. “These are the current bounties in Galdin Quay. Fortunately, there’s only two — and judging by the difficulty of them, it’ll be a quick and easy fix. Apparently, hunters from Meldacio have yet to be dispatched… Despite Coctura’s requests for them.” Pausing only to scoff and shake his head in disbelief, Gladio continued. “It isn’t classified as being a high priority for them… So, it’s up to us.”

“What are they?” Ignis inquired curiously, leaning forward across the table to trace his fingers along inky sketch of what looked to be a goblin on one of the posters.

“Daemons,” Gladio explained. “For this one, anyway. Wreak havoc during nightfall. Coctura says that it’s a group of six or seven, so they shouldn’t be too much of an issue. We'll be able to tackle it in minutes.”

“And this one?” You addressed the secondary poster with your own pointed finger. Unlike the one depicting a goblin illustration, this one seemed much, _much_ more sinister — if you were to make an educated guess, you’d have thought it to be some kind of scorpion on account of its barbed tail.

Gladio answered you with a sigh. “This one… is tough. Extremely rare, _especially_ around beaches. Typically, they take to the desert or drylands and keep to themselves, but they’ve migrated south.”

“A Reaperking…” Ignis mumbled in finality, curling his splayed fingers into a loose fist after Gladio gave a curt nod in confirmation. “If there’s a Reaperking, then there’s sure to be —”

“Reapertails. That’s right. A whole cluster of them.”

“What are you thinking?” Prompto had pushed himself from the table in order to take position at Gladio’s side, crossing his arms loosely against his chest as he bent to further survey the bounty posters. “Should we take them on one by one, or should we split into groups?”

“We should _totally_ do groups!” Iris explained, straightening her posture at the table and clapping her hands together in excitement. “I’ve always wanted to punch a daemon in the —”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Gladio husked, furrowing his brows and anchoring his hands on his hips. “Like hell I’d ever let you take on bounties like these. You _or_ (Y/N).”

_Well, ain’t that sweet?_

“It’s isn't like we’ll be doing it _ourselves_ , Gladdy. Obviously. We’ll be with you guys!”

Everyone had fallen silent with contemplation. While Gladio’s expression symbolized complete dissent to the situation, everyone else didn’t seem too bothered by the idea — especially Prompto, who bore his usual and customary grin that only appeared during moments of unconditional excitement. “They’ll be _fine_ ,” he encouraged, nudging Gladio’s forearm. “One group can take Iris and the other can take (Y/N). Face it, we’ve handled worse enemies with just the four of us… Remember those Bombs? This will be a _cakewalk_ compared to those bastards, man. _Come on!_ It’ll be fun!”

Gladio huffed with irritation before rolling his eyes, briefly raking his teeth over his lower-lip before uncrossing his arms. “Fine,” he affirmed, dropping a single finger onto the bounty of the cartoonized goblin. “Ignis, I’ll leave the goblins to you. They’re dodgy as all hell, so Prompto will join you. Noct and I will handle the Reaperking.”

“Which leaves _us_ ,” Iris paused to gesture a hand between the both of you, “... where?”

“They’re both nasty creatures…” Ignis tapped at his chin in thought, seaform orbs flickering from one bounty to the other as he juggled with the potential risks of the damage that could be inflicted by either or. “If Iris is insistent on tousling with a daemon, however, she can join our party. They’re small enough to restrain…”

“ _Yes_! Goblins it is!”

“That leaves you with us, (Y/N),” Gladio addressed you offhandedly. “Between Noctis and I, there’s nothing to worry about. Unlike Iris, we can’t let you punch these guys for kicks, though… Not unless you want to risk getting stung. As long as we keep you at a safe distance, everything should be fine.”

Prompto drove a balled fist into the palm of his hand. “ _Sweet!_ Meet at nightfall?”

“Yup. Meet at nightfall. Let’s end these suckers. Sooner rather than later… I have a date to get to.”  

* * *

As soon as the sun disappeared behind the mountains ridging the Vannaugh Coast, you and Iris had met the boys in Galdin Quay’s parking lot, now barren and void of the day-to-day tourists that otherwise crowded the parking slots and driveways. Due to the substantial fee of renting out a room at the Quayside Cradle, people would only pay a visit for the seafood and the beach before climbing back into their vehicles and driving home before the opaque darkness of the night rendered the roads unsafe and perilous. Not like you were complaining, however — as much as Galdin’s view stole your breath during the day, you didn’t have _words_ for what it did to you at night when the beaches lay empty and the waters stilled. It was something out of a postcard; a beautiful, undisturbed piece of poetry from Mother Nature herself. Amidst the pacified swells, clusters of fluorescent-blue barrelfish scuttled and dashed throughout the dark, vast expanse, illuminating the ocean floor and it’s swaying arrays of viridian kelp to further compliment Galdin Quay and all of it’s unabashed glory.

You thought back to Iris’ suggestion on moving down to the Coast. Now that you’d experienced nighttime out on the seaside, you found yourself succumbing to the idea… It wouldn’t be an awful way to spend your time, would it?

“You girls ready?” Gladio spoke first, hands lifting to fasten a small flashlight to the front of his shirt before pressing in a button and clicking it on. A beam of white, incandescent light washed over you and Iris, the both of you squinting against the effulgent ray before holding up your arms to shield your eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled, angling himself away from the two of you and instead casting the light toward the other end of the parking lot. “Helps us see, is all.”

“After much calculation, we’ve come to find that these bounties are nowhere near one another,” Ignis explained casually, taking several slow, deliberate steps before pausing next to Gladio and fumbling with his own flashlight. “One party will pursue their targets on the south end of the beach while the other will pursue theirs on the north end. If the instance of running into trouble were to arise, it would take the other party some time to come to aid… Let us hope that no mistakes are made, yes?”

“Don’t worry about it, Specs,” Noctis said quietly, clapping the adviser on the shoulder. “Everyone’s got their phone on them. We’ll just call.”

“Just exercise caution, Noct. Mind (Y/N)’s position and see to it that she doesn’t get placed into harm’s way.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured with a small smile, slinking your hands into the pockets of your jeans before shrugging a single shoulder. “I’ll keep my distance if things get rough.”

After a brief period of altruistic parting, the six of you split into your respected teams of three before going your separate ways — Ignis, Prompto and Iris heading for the grassy knoll on one end of the beach while you, Gladio and Noctis shuffled through the sand to make your way to the rocky cove that was nestled on the other end. Despite the underlying danger that hunting these “scorpions” entailed, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement at bearing witness to their execution at the hands of not only Gladio, but Noctis, as well. During adolescence, Gladio had trained Noctis in the art of combat — spending countless hours instructing the young Prince on proper warfare tactics with not only physical weapons, but with the King’s art of phasing, as well. Seeing the two of them working together to take down an enemy wouldn’t just be entertaining…

… it’d be stupefying.

All of a sudden, Gladio’s arm was in front of you, blocking your path and ultimately slowing you to a complete standstill. Over the bulk of his forearm, you perceived movement amongst the darkness; dark, inky shadows scurrying against the pale contrast of moon-illuminated sand with unsettling speed. “Goddamn it…” came the older Amicitia from beneath his breath, head turning sideways to address a now-crouching Noctis. “Can you tell how many of them there are?”

“No,” quietly came the Prince, his fingers disappearing into the sand as he readjusted his posture. “More than we expected, though.”

“Yeah. I know. I see…” a pause, followed by brief gusts of breath as he counted, “... seven, I think. Seven Reapertails around one Reaperking.”

“What do you think?”

Gladio slowly lowered his arm from in front of you in order to press the heel of his palm against your hip, nudging you backwards and (safely) behind him. “I don’t know,” he replied, eyes still trained on the scene only a few yards away. “We can’t ambush. Not with that many. We’ll need to go at them from different sides… Take them by surprise so we can use that extra time to strike a few down before focusing on the ‘king.”

“Sounds good to me.” Straightening his knees and rising to his full height, the Crown Prince craned his chin to glance over at you, the engorged pits of his pupils nearly swallowing you whole as he caught your gaze against the rays of the flashlight pinned to his chest. “Stay back here,” he said simply. “If you see one of them coming towards you, call out. Can’t risk 'em getting close.”

After a dry swallow, you nodded your head. “Don’t worry about me.”

He nodded once in return, breaking eye-contact with you just as he disappeared with a wash of blue and purple light, leaving nothing but a shimmering, evanescent shadow in his wake. Out of your peripheral, you saw him materialize onto a boulder that overlooked the cluster of teeming varmints, body crouched low to avoid possible detection while Gladio slowly snuck towards them from the other direction, leaving you completely and totally alone.

Though engulfed in darkness, they managed to signal one another, and with a timed, calculated lunge, both of them surged into the faction and immediately slashed down two of the seven smaller Reapertails. The creature’s shrill cries of agony sliced into the tranquil silence of the beach, making you cringe, though you couldn’t help your fascination with the way that Noctis warped in and out of the battlefield to avoid the fervent swings of the Reaperking’s barb. One by one, the small ones went down — legs vacillating in panic as they rolled over onto their backs and fought for composure before the blade of Gladio’s Broadsword swiftly descended to forever still them.

You were so engrossed in the vertiginous scene before you that you didn’t flinch when you felt something break the skin of your inner-thigh with a white-hot _pop_ …

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you glanced down at the ground before you — blinking once, and then twice when the shape of a predatory arachnid took shape against the darkness… The sharp, needlepoint barb at the end of its erect tail slowly withdrawing from you and curling into itself…

_Oh… Oh, no…No…_

**_“NO! (Y/N)!"_**

The shout was weak, muddied and distorted as it tore through the night, and until the back of your head struck the uncomfortable cushion of the sandy ground, you didn’t realize that you’d even fallen down until the shock of the impact jolted your eyes open to perceive the beauty of the night sky above you. With a slow, confused blink, you watched as the sparkle of the stars melted into ugly, waxen blobs of diminishing light before disappearing from the velveteen darkness entirely...

_What…? What’s happening…?_

A wet, discordant cry tickled at your eardrums from somewhere in the distance, though you couldn’t be bothered with thoughts as to what it could be… Not because you chose not to, but because you physically _couldn’t._ You tried to lift your head to address the sound — tried to shift your body enough to attempt to glance in its general direction, but your muscles wouldn’t yield to your brain’s issued commands. You felt limp, lifeless — more tired than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, and it was only a matter of moments before your eyelids grew heavy with an incessant need to close them and drift off into a deep, pleasant sleep…

_Gods, I’m so tired…_

_“(Y/N)!”_

You stirred weakly atop the sand, body quickly succumbing to an unusual form of paralysis as your eyes fluttered unstably in an attempt to stay open.

Four fingers suddenly and swiftly came down against your cheek, temporarily severing the oppressive stupor and bringing the night sky into clear focus when your eyes flung wide open.

“She’s okay!” Came the voice, deep and rich in its illustrious timbre, and though the veil was slowly starting to reclaim your senses again, you knew it’d been Gladio. “Gods, she’s okay. Thank _fuck._  Noct — we need to hurry. If we don’t do something _now_ , we’re in trouble. Do you have an antidote?"

Before your eyes had a chance to close again, Gladio’s hand was back on your cheek, roughly tapping at your numbing flesh until the nerve-endings reacted and briefly restored your cognizance. Though close in proximity, their voices were still muddied and incoherent, but judging by the sudden pitch in escalation, you knew that something was wrong.

**Very wrong.**

 

_“You don’t have one? Why in the hell don’t you have one?”_

_“Why the hell don’t_ **_you_** _?”_

_“I didn’t think we fucking needed —”_

_“Neither did I!”_

_“Call Ignis! Right now, call Ignis!”_

_“We need to get it out. We can’t wait for Ignis, we need to get it out NOW.”_

 

“(Y/N)...” Gladio rasped into your ear, his calloused palms framing the sides of your face before giving you a firm, yet gentle shake. Surprisingly, the lurch had allowed your vision to refocus — the crisp pools of his brown eyes coming into view directly in front of your face. When your eyes met his, he sighed audibly with relief, though that didn’t ease the worry that tightened his expression. “(Y/N), hang in there… You’ve been stung. One of those bastards found their way over to you and…”

His voice suddenly and swiftly became obscured; a distant echo at the bottom of the ocean as the nerves in your face succumbed to temptation and no longer fought to keep your eyelids open.

With a shout of panic, Gladio had dropped down onto the sand directly behind your head, legs extending on either side of you before hooking his hands under your arms and pulling you just enough until your back pressed flush against his chest. Surprisingly, you could feel the heat of him permeate through your shirt and warm the expanse of your back, though the only thing that it made you want to do is fall asleep —  _really_ fall asleep.

_Poisoned, huh? Is this what being poisoned feels like?_

“(Y/N)...” he breathed into your ear, fingers sinking into the crook of your chin and desperately shaking your head from left to right. “It got you on your thigh. We need to get your jeans off...  Alright?”

“Yeah…” you managed to breath out, head lolling to one side.

You felt a gentle pressure on your lower-abdomen before feeling the constriction of your jeans suddenly loosen from around your waist, the crisp chill of the night air nipping at your overheated flesh as the denim was carefully pulled past your thighs and down the length of your legs before being discarded onto the sand. The breeze felt good against the balmy heat of your body temperature, and though ever brief, it allowed you to open your eyes just enough to perceive Noctis kneeling in between your bare legs — the lifeless heap of your jeans resting at his side as his brilliant blue eyes surveyed the wound that lacerated the pliant flesh of your inner-thigh.

You weren’t sure what startled you more; the gruesome, macabre wound that bled and trickled steadily down onto the sand beneath you or the fact that the Crown Prince had removed your jeans, leaving you clad in just your pair of panties before coming to kneel in between your spread legs…

You flinched against Gladio’s hold on you, and in response, he hooked his arms tighter through yours and held you firmly against his chest. “(Y/N). (Y/N), listen. I’m gonna need you to stay still. Okay? You’re gonna feel a little bit of pressure, but in order to get the poison out, we need you to _stay still._ Noct… She’s on fire, man. Do it _now_.”

You watched as the Prince parted your knee before pushing it down into the dirt, the webbing of his right hand framing the swelling pit of your wound and fastening his lips over it to roughly draw it into his mouth.

A scream tore from your throat. With each pull of his mouth, your thigh seared, bringing about such an agonizing sense of pain that it paled in comparison to having a bone forcibly broken. His nostrils flared with each exhale, the torrid heat of his breath burning the tender, inflamed skin that circled the lesion before pressing his fingertips deeper into your flesh and continuing with his task. You thrashed helplessly against Gladio, who husked words of encouragement into your ear while tightening his hold on you to keep you fully subdued against the Prince’s ministrations.

Tears brimmed your eyes as the pain intensified, though the more that it seemed to do so, the more cognizant you became; the incessant need to close your eyes and fall asleep not nearly as prominent as it had been just moments ago, though the effects of the poison still dulled a good majority of your senses.

Everything, of course, except for the _pain_ of having it extracted.

“Shhh… _Shhhh_ … There we go…”

You watched with wet eyes as Noctis pulled away, eyebrows furrowed in repulsion as he bent his head to spit into the sand before groaning deeply, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before descending once more to lock his mouth onto the wound. This time, however, one of his arms had extended upward in order to drape across the panty-clad mound at the apex of your thighs, the ridge of his thumb tracing the healthy, sensitive patch of flesh on your thigh soothingly as he continued to suck and lap at the lower lesion with a fervor that would have otherwise made you blush had you not been in such an unfortunate situation.

You hadn't quite realized how _close_ that he was to you… The warm gust of his exhales inadvertently causing your toes to curl as your fever-induced mind imagined that he was between your legs for reasons _other_ than saving your life...

“She's about to pass out…” came Gladio from behind you. “I can feel it. She isn’t struggling as hard. Keep going, Noct.”

Noctis regarded him with a groan against your flesh, his teeth anchoring to the skin before sucking hungrily at the puncture wound to take in the rest of the tart venom before pulling away a second time to spit it, along with your blood, into the sand. “It's about gone,” he breathed, dropping himself down yet again to salvage the rest.

Everything around you had started to go dark. While you could still feel the torrid pull of the Prince’s mouth on you, you were beginning to lose sight of him. Through half-opened eyelids, you glanced down your torso at him nestled between your legs — his sooty locks shielding his face and fanning out against your thigh as he worked to complete his task, though as if sensing your stare, he glanced upward… Peering through his notorious black tufts to torch your soul with twin pools of bright, carnal opium. You watched as his cheeks hollowed with each drag of his mouth, and even against the darkness, you saw his gaze descend; shamelessly bearing witness to your physical vulnerability before lifting his eyes to hold your own again.

You weren't sure whether it was that or the ebbing pain, but shortly afterward, you'd lost consciousness — falling limp in Gladio’s arms just as Ignis, Prompto and Iris had neared your position with panicked shouts of their own in response to your first initial scream of pain.

“What’s happened?!” roared Ignis, dropping down onto his knees and skidding across the sand to come to a halt at Noctis’ side, who’d withdrawn himself for the third and final time to spit out the rest of the acrid poison.

“A Reapertail got her,” he explained, an accumulation of saliva brimming against the parted swell of his lower-lip before he used it to swish his mouth for any remaining fluids before spatting skillfully into the sand.

“What do you mean _‘got her’_?” the adviser asked incredulously, the beam from Gladio’s flashlight reflecting off of his lenses as he turned to address the older Amicitia, who’d taken to resting his chin on top of your shoulder with closed eyes as you breathed soundly — unconsciously — inside of his arms. “Gladio?!”

“It stung her,” he’d said hoarsely. “She didn’t see it until it was too late. We saw her go down right as we finished fighting, but by the time we got to her, the poison had already set in. It happened so fast.”

“... Did you not have an _antidote_?”

No one spoke.

“Prompto.” Ignis held out his palm, his eyes scrutinizing the lesion that crowned your inner-thigh. Without needing to be told, the sharpshooter had dropped to his knees alongside Ignis, placing two crystalline vials into Ignis’ hand before watching as he popped each one open with the precision of a physicist. “You’ve gotten out most of the poison, though not quickly enough. It’s rendered her unconscious. However, it isn’t fatal. With an antidote and a potion, she’ll be fine come morning.”

Noctis rolled his head forward with a quiet sigh. “Good.”

“I reckon that you saved her life.”

The Prince lifted his chin a fraction, eyes befalling Ignis and watching as he gently grasped the crook of your chin to part your lips just enough to be able to trickle the vial’s contents into your mouth. “Gladio and I both helped—”

“Had you not sucked the poison from the wound when you did…” He shook his head. “That was extraordinary thinking, Noct. I must say that I’m impressed. This isn’t a situation to be taken lightly, but you handled it with the ingenuity of a King. I’ve no doubt that she’ll be grateful for you whenever she’s to wake. Gladio, as well. In the meantime, however… Let’s get her back. I think we’ve danced with danger enough for one night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH, MY LANTAAAA. First of all, let me just say - W O W. When I first started writing this story, I literally thought that it would crash and burn once I posted it to this website. I didn't know how my audience would critique it, and those first few days of it being publicized were VERY anxious ones. Never in a hundred years did I expect to get such INCREDIBLE feedback from SO MANY OF YOU about the first two chapters, and your eagerness to see the third chapter has (of course) inspired me to work a lot harder than I usually do.
> 
> This addition... was long. Longer than the first two. I couldn't STOP myself! While this chapter will ultimately change the pace of the story, I sincerely hope that everyone enjoyed it as much as I did. 
> 
> I can't thank you guys enough for sticking with me. I truly can't. As per usual, PLEASEEEE keep me posted on any and all feedback. The reason why I'm hashing out all of this as much as I am is sourced SOLELY from the absolutely wonderful comments that you all have been showering me with! SO MUCH LOVE, BABIES. <3
> 
> If you want to look at pretty things and chitchat/gossip with me, I'm always lurking over on Tumblr:  
> pinkmoogle.tumblr.com  
> <3


	4. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASDFGHJKL. A fair warning to everyone - our delightful little PG-13 rating (thus far) is being cranked up to a solid R for this chapter. BEFORE YOU SKIP AHEAD IN SEARCH OF THE JUICY BITS, please note that it does NOT involve any of our chocobros. That delicious little slice of smut will come at a later point in time, but we DO have some raunch for this bit! Yippee! 
> 
> While this piece isn't as long or progressive as I'd have liked for it to be, it's a still little sumthin' sumthin'. A VERY IMPORTANT SUMTHIN' SUMTHIN', MIND YOU.
> 
> A BIG shout-out to everyone who's followed the story through it's gradual progression, and an even BIGGER shout-out to the people kind enough to leave me kudos, comments and incredible feedback. I couldn't have done it without you guys! <3 Enjoy!

The first thing that you noticed upon opening your eyes was the colour of the sky on the other side of your bedroom window. Microscopic clusters of polar-white dusted and burnished the empyrean backdrop with such resplendence that you’d momentarily forgotten where you were — correlating and _mistaking_ the view to the one outside your portal window back in Caem rather than the tenanted suite in Galdin Quay.

 _I bet the breeze feels amazing right now…_ you mused, eyes fluttering closed as you imagined yourself riding the lift to the top of the cliffside lighthouse and holding onto it’s iron railings for support as the wind whipped and flogged your hair into tangled tresses. You imagined stretching your hands above your head and reaching for the stars — a single eye closing in concentration as you traced each lustrous array like celestial brail. You imagined the strident waves of the ocean as they broke against the bedrock, and you imagined the look on Iris’ face if you were to ever confide in her your insatiable desire to go cliff diving at night.

The thought made you smile.

After a deep, complacent inhale, you shifted leisurely atop your sheets — bare feet dragging against the fabric of your comforter and arms curling beneath your pillow to congeal the feathers within before you felt a strange, disagreeable prickle against your thigh. With your eyes still closed, you slid one of your arms from beneath your pillow in order to reach down and investigate the sensation, though once your fingertips shakily came into contact with that of a tied-off bandeau, you couldn’t help but surge yourself forward in a sitting position in order to get a better look at what was trussed around your thigh.

 _What is_ **_that_ ** _…?_

Once upright, everything about your bedroom steadily came into focus. Much to your confusion, you _weren’t,_ in fact, inside of your accredited bedroom back in Cape Caem — with it’s worn, rustic furnishings and lackluster decor — but rather the lavish bedroom that you shared with Iris at the Quayside Cradle. Crooking an eyebrow in turbulence, you turned your chin back toward the bay window that overlooked the sea — eyes searching the night sky for any indication of what time it was before an efflux of realization launched your heart against your ribcage.

Immediately, you looked back down at your bandage — the tip of your index finger tracing along the discoloured patch that darkened the gauze against your inner-thigh before uneasily drifting higher to graze the seam of your exposed pantyline…

**_OH. MY. SIX._ **

With enough force that was physically tolerable, you hauled yourself from off of your bed — bare feet rapping against the polished hardwood as you raced over to your dresser before grasping at the drawer’s knobs and yanking it open. Quickly settling on a pair of cotton shorts, you slipped them on — a brief wince tightening your expression when the fabric rubbed against your dressing, though no amount of physical pain could surpass the psychological torment that you faced of how it had come to be there in the first place.

You remembered the Reapertail… You remembered the _pop!_ of your skin as it yielded to the pernicious pressure of the creature’s rigid barb, and you remembered being confused before falling backward against the sandy outcrop and watching as the stars melted right out of the sky. You remembered a sense of peace, a sense of relaxation as your body willed you to fall asleep… All you wanted to _do_ was fall asleep; no pain, no suffering, just _sleep_.

The last thing that you remembered was the thick, hulking stems of Gladio’s arms holding you tight against his chest as you sobbed in agony, fighting against the constriction in an attempt to get away from the searing heat that branded your thigh as Noctis fought to —

_Oh, Gods… Oh, Gods, no…_

The burning heat of those glacial blues as they stared up at you from between your parted thighs made you drop your face into your hands — the heels of your palms pressing into your eye-sockets as your entire body grew hot with remembrance. Was that why you had woken up without any pants on? Had they taken them off in order to get to the source of the sting? Oh, God, had he _really_ taken it upon himself to physically _suck_ the poison out of your body while Gladio worked to keep you still? Six, of _all_ places… Of _all_ places, it had to be _there…_

You remembered watching the Prince’s eyes descend, at one point… You remembered the stygian strands of his hair shielding their path from your discovery, but with the way that he lifted them to meet your gaze again, _you knew_ what he’d just scrutinized... You didn’t need to see it to _feel_ the heat that it had elicited between your thighs…

Your thoughts suddenly drifted to Iris. Did _she_ know about everything that had happened? With half a mind that your lunge from the bed to your dresser had disturbed her, you pulled your face from your hands and slowly glanced in the direction of her bed — eyebrows furrowing when you realized that she wasn’t inside of it. Aside from her earlier catapult against the duvet, the sheets were otherwise untouched.

What time _was_ it? How long had you been asleep for? Was _anyone else_ inside of the suite?

Against your better judgement, you wanted to find out — as embarrassing as the entire situation seemed to be, you couldn’t address it by locking yourself away in your bedroom for the rest of the night. As much as you’d have liked to bury your face into a pillow and scream at the top of your lungs rather than do this, you knew that you had to issue thanks where thanks were due… And if that meant walking downstairs to face the capricious stares of your party members, then so be it. It was an accident, after all. It didn’t exhibit a sense of negligence or oversight out on the battlefield, though you couldn’t help but feel as though the others may have believed otherwise… To an extent, you felt like a nuisance — a child that had to be nursed back to health because she wasn’t paying enough attention in the face of danger.

You thought back to Noctis’ mouth...

_God, this is so embarrassing. Why did I agree on going on that stupid hunt, anyway?_

Much to your (pleasant) surprise, the upstairs landing was unoccupied and cast in shadow after you’d cautiously pried open your bedroom door in order to peer through it. A stack of folded blankets crowned with a single pillow rested on top of one of the loveseats, though no other evidence depicted that Gladio had been back inside since leaving for the earlier hunt. _That_ was a relief. Though tending to your affliction was a joint effort between he and the Crown Prince, you weren’t sure if you were ready to fall victim to his predatory stare or debauched innuendos about having your pants taken off in front of him just yet. If you were being honest with yourself, you’d have rathered come across the likes of Ignis before you did anyone else — if he knew anything at all about the situation, he’d provide you with all of the necessary information while still maintaining a calm, professional composure that was void of the condescension that you dreaded from everyone else.

Though the landing was dark, the staircase was not — a wash of warm, auroral light from the lower quarters illuminated the bottom tiers and assured you of a presence down below. Sighing quietly, you made your way across the upstairs seating area in several strides before reaching for the wooden banister, allowing your fingers to glide along the polished wood as you slowly began your descent. Amidst the comfortable silence of the suite, the ring of aluminum pans clanging together could suddenly be heard coming from the kitchen, and if you listened hard enough, you could make out a distinct _thunk! —_ as if someone had scoldingly smacked the back of someone else’s head with a bare palm.

“Ow!” Prompto hissed beneath his breath. “Sorry! My hands slipp—”

“Hush. Where are your manners?”

_Ignis. Thank the Gods._

By the time of heel of your foot pressed into the bottommost stair, an unsettling squeak erupted from the painted wood, causing both Ignis and Prompto to cast sharp glances over their shoulders to perceive the source of the sound.

“(Y/N)?” Came the strategist worriedly, setting down a folded hand towel onto the kitchen’s island before pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose to curiously inspect your physical condition. “What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted truthfully.

“It wasn’t the parade of clashing cooking pans, was it?”

“Oh, no!” You saw Prompto visibly relax. “I was already on my way down the staircase before I heard anything. Don’t worry.”

“What about the pain?” asked Ignis thoughtfully, his right hand delving into the pocket of his trousers — as if fishing for a backup vial of medicine in preparation for a confirmatory answer.

You slowly shook your head. “I don’t… think so? I mean, when I woke up, I thought I was back in Caem… I didn’t feel anything until I went to move. Then I remembered what happened.”

From Ignis’ side, Prompto heaved out a sigh — chin dropping to direct his gaze to that of the kitchen floor as his arms crossed loosely against his chest. “Damnit…” he muttered, shaking his head before pushing out another sigh. “That whole situation is scary to think about. Do you remember _everything?_ Like, not just bits and pieces?”

“Well, I think that I do… I’m not sure. I don’t remember how I got back to the hotel, though? I remember…” you paused, releasing a shaky exhale before continuing, “... Noctis getting out the poison. I remember it hurting so bad that I…” you trailed off, eyes becoming unfocused as you struggled to remember.

“Passed out?” Prompto quietly suggested.

“Did I…?”

“You were out by the time that we arrived. At first, it startled me,” Ignis explained, withdrawing a crystalline vial from the confines of his trouser pocket and popping the cork with the padding of his thumb before gesturing for you with his other hand. “You were unresponsive. To make matters worse, after gaining knowledge that you’d been poisoned without the reinforcement of an Antidote, I panicked… I was certain that you were in trouble.” After abiding by the adviser’s request to step forward, he placed the vial into the palm of your hand — gloved fingers settling over your bare ones to encourage a firm grasp. “Drink,” he instructed, gesturing toward the Potion with a crane of his chin.

There weren’t many instances in which you’d had to drink the pungent likes of a Potion. While it acted as the “lesser” panacea of medical management in Eos, it was only issued to individuals who sustained injuries that couldn’t be treated immediately with ointment, antibiotics or bandages — a broken bone, for example, or a gash that ran deep enough to render a steady blood flow that didn’t slow with applied pressure. Other ailments had their own corresponding remedies, of course, though Potions and Hi-Potions were the usual and customary antiseptics. In your opinion, you didn’t feel as though you truly _needed_ one, but if Ignis believed it to be necessary, then necessary it was. Once tipping the contents into your mouth, you blocked airflow from your nostrils, holding your breath in hopes of suppressing a gag as the acrid solvent daunted your tastebuds and made you salivate before forcing it all down your throat with a jittery exhale and setting the now-empty bottle back into his outstretched hand.

“Good,” he quietly praised, slipping the cork back into the vial’s estuary before dropping it back into his pocket. “Though we issued you an Antidote _and_ a Potion after falling unconscious, you still walk with a limp... One more dose should take care of that, however. Come sunrise, I expect you to be well again.”

“Thank you, Ignis. I really, _really_ appreciate it… I’m sorry that this has happened. Our first night in Galdin and I’m having to be looked after…”

“Nonsense,” he assured. “Had it not been for His Highness, you’d have sustained injuries far more fatal than a healing puncture wound. I fear that the medic onsite wouldn’t have been able to cleanse your body of the toxin in time… An amputation would have likely been the solution to saving your life.”

A wave of unease coiled deep inside of your belly. _An amputation?_ The sting was that serious? Back in school, you’d taken a course on the strange, uncanny creatures that frequented the lands outside of Insomnia, though given your lack of interest in ever travelling to study them personally, such facts had been gradually disregarded over the course of time. You were a city girl with dreams of heading one of the central superstructures in Lucis, not an aspiring huntress destined for scars with the likes of Meldacio; knowledge of the wildlife wasn’t important.

Not until the destruction of the Crown City, that is.

“Ignis says that the little poison that Noct couldn’t get out was what made you unconscious.” Prompto stressed. “Your body went into shock and just shut down. Gladio was the one to carry you back and put you to bed.”

The visual made your cheeks grow warm. “Is he the one who bandaged my leg, as well?”

“Negative,” came Ignis. “I did.”

Inadvertently, you pushed out a sigh, cheeks now stained with a splotchy blush at the notion that _everyone_ had seen you clad in your underwear while unconscious. Not only that, but Ignis would have likely had to angle your legs in compromising positions in order to get the bandage tied and secured around your thigh. _Why did it have to be my damn thigh? Why couldn’t it have been my pinky fucking toe?_ The bitter heat of the moment had you channeling your sudden irritation at Iris, who could have easily taken the initiative of dressing you in a pair of appropriate trousers to rest in rather than leaving you to wake up confused, alone and half-naked. Admittedly, it had done quite the number on your dignity. “Where are they, anyway?” You suddenly inquired, eyes skimming over the span of the kitchen and the nearby seating area before coming back to rest on Ignis. “Everyone else, I mean.”

“Out at the bar. Come a certain time in the evening, the cocktails are significantly reduced in price. Since Gladio wasn’t able to indulge in Coctura after her shift, he opted for social drinks with anyone who was willing as an outlet for relaxation after the incident. A way to calm the nerves, if you will.”

“Did Noctis and Iris tag along, as well? How come you guys didn’t go?”

“Yeah, they went, too,” Prompto answered. “Ignis wanted to be on standby in case you woke up, and I don’t like liquor all that much. I wouldn’t enjoy it as much as they would. So, I got stuck with kitchen duty.”

Another _thunk!_ against the back of Prompto’s head had you grinning, the soreness of your pride suddenly fizzling out into nothing more than a plume of metaphorical smoke after learning of Ignis’ generosity. Though your best friend of twelve years would rather sip a margarita in the presence of the Crown Prince instead of watching over you in such a vulnerable state, the very adviser of the Lucian scion had taken it upon _himself_ to tend to your needs, despite the lack of familiarity between the both of you. Such a kind and thoughtful gesture had struck a chord in your heart, and much to your own surprise, you found yourself wanting to stick by Ignis throughout the remainder of the trip in hopes of experiencing more instances of his altruism.

You owed it to your battered ego and self-esteem.

“You know, (Y/N)... Why don’t you take a bath?”

You blinked in curiosity. “A bath?”

Ignis nodded his head once. “Indeed. Since half of our party is preoccupied elsewhere, the need for the quarters will be at a minimum. Take advantage of the soaker tub. I think the jets will do your muscles a favor.”

_Would you like to come in there with me, maybe?_

“Oh, wow… That actually sounds wonderful,” you’d said instead, turning your head to rest your chin atop your shoulder as you cast a glance back toward the bathroom door. Upon you and Iris’ brief tour of the suite once first arriving earlier in the day, the soaker tub — a polished, marbled acrylic accompanied by six customizable LED lights and pressure jets — had worked it’s way to the top of the list of things that you wanted to take advantage of while in Galdin Quay. Given that there were so many of you sharing the lavatory, however, you weren’t quite sure that you’d even have such a golden opportunity to do so. Until now.

You shuddered with delight. “What time is it?”

Prompto craned his chin to perceive a nautical clock mounted on a nearby wall, eyes squinting slightly as he took note of the time. “11:14,” he said. “Not sure when they’re coming back, but it can’t be anytime soon.”

“Perfect… I’ll take up that offer, then. Thank you for the suggestion.” You sighed happily, raising your hand in a wave when Prompto and Ignis wished you requiescence before turning on your heel and disappearing into the spacious bathroom, your back pressing flush against the oaken door once securing it within the jamb and engaging the lock.

The bathroom, in and of itself, was uncommonly glorious. Adorned with nautical fixtures, decor and ornamentation, it reminded you a lot of the glossy pages of expensive lifestyle magazines where photographers struggle to find the perfect lighting to capture an unrealistic, otherworldly shot of a room whose contents sat just out of reach of the salaries of most middle-class families. You used to laugh at the price tags coupled with some of the accessories, promising yourself that if you ever spent over 2,000 gil on a soap dispenser or 3,500 gil on “exotic potpourri” that you’d never be able to retrieve the humbled grace and virtue of a simple proletariat ever again. However, standing in the center of a washroom that likely totaled out to be more than your life insurance policy had you appreciating the opportunity of taking advantage of such extravagance more than you probably should have. Some noble folk wouldn’t do so much as bat an eyelash at the bathroom’s luxury on account of their accustomization to such things of excess, but _you…_ Even as you carefully removed your clothes from your body, you took care not to leave them in crumpled heaps on the tile — instead taking to neatly folding and stacking them on top of the vanity stool. You never favored messiness.

After undressing, you focused on that of your bandeau — fingers working slowly to disentangle the nexus that kept it secure before unwrapping it from around your thigh and blinking disjointedly at the patch of tender skin that rested beneath. Though it appeared splotchy in color, it was otherwise unharmed — the circular puncture from the Reapertail having healed entirely with no real evidence of it’s earlier severity. Curiously, you traced your finger along your flesh, pressing the tip into the meat to elicit any type of sensitivity, though none came. A burst of breath escaped you as you chuckled, a soft smile pulling back the corners of your mouth as you thought back to Ignis’ hospitality and kindness. Had it not been for him and his concern for your condition, you’d likely still be bedridden.

Spontaneously, you considered waking up with him at dawn to assist in making breakfast as a token of your appreciation. He liked to do that, didn’t he? Prepare breakfast? Whenever he’d recruit the likes of Noctis for help, the Prince would often burn whatever was on the stove on behalf of not stirring the contents as frequently as instructed. You’d have liked to think that _your_ skill in the kitchen was relatively satisfactory, so the thought of burning or ruining anything wasn’t overwhelming or worrisome. In fact, you thought that Ignis would sincerely appreciate the help… Having six mouths to feed rather than his usual four wasn’t a comfortable job to tackle alone, so having an extra set of hands would not only quicken the process but also ensure it’s imminent success.

You were strangely excited.

The tile felt cool against your bare feet as you padded across the length of the bathroom to bend and examine the decorative knobs adorning one side of the tub, fingers curling around one in particular before pulling and watching as a steady stream of hot water spilled forth from the gaudy spigot and slowly began to fill the sizable basin. It wasn’t until the water reached a certain level within the tub that the LED lights turned on — brilliant beams of alternating blues, greens, pinks and whites tinting the waters invitingly.

 _Gods,_ **_look_ ** _at this thing…_

You took your time climbing inside, the sultry lap of the water against your skin bringing forth a sense of both immense pleasure and pain as your muscles gradually yielded to the biting heat the further that you lowered yourself down. Despite its lack of earlier sensitivity, you felt a sudden twinge in your inner-thigh when the warmth of the water touched it, immediately soothing the tender flesh and aching muscle fibers within that you weren’t aware even still hurt.

Then, a distinctive thought suddenly came to you.

With hooded lids, you submerged your hand beneath the water’s surface — coasting it through the gentle current of the spigot stream to touch at the discolored patch of skin against your inner-thigh. Again, the pressure of your fingertips didn’t bring about any sense of pain, though you couldn’t help but wonder why it looked the way that it did… Of course, you’d been poisoned. You’d seen enough photographs to know what such toxins could do to that of human flesh, but if you’d been given an Antidote _and_ two Potions since then…

Why did blood still blotch the surface? Shouldn’t all effects of the sting have dissipated along with the wound itself?

The answer to your question came swiftly, and when it did, you froze — eyes glazing over and becoming unfocused as your subconscious sparsely reenacted the pull of Noctis’ mouth against your thigh…

 _Do I…? Do I have a_ ** _hickey? Is that a hickey?_** _Is that…?_

Blinking through your reverie, you squinted to see past the water’s rippling surface — fingers pressing and stretching the patch of flesh for your scrutiny. It was large in size, roughly the shape of a golfball and speckled with flecks of crimson and deep purple — the flesh tender enough to react against the bathwater, though otherwise ultimately painless. Suddenly remembering back to the game of Chicken, you quickly shifted your inspection from your inner-thigh to the tops of both of your legs, eyes widening when you detected twin, circular bruises in the shape of the Prince’s fingertips.

_Oh, Gods…_

A warm, savory heat coiled deep within your belly at the placement of such markings. Had you (or anyone else, for that matter) known any better, they could easily be mistaken for the result of something much more… corporeal.

Like being on the receiving end of his snapping hips, for example…

_No. Quit it._

Like emptying my cries into a pillow with each rough pull of those **gripping** fingers —

_S T O P._

You pushed out a sigh, head falling back to rest against the contoured groove of the headrest before fluttering your eyes closed in thought. Against the stark black of your eyelids, you watched the way his cheeks hollowed with each slow, enticing pull of his mouth — watched the way his nostrils flared with each inhale and tickled your febrile skin with each exhale. You watched the way that his gaze dangerously held yours… The lucid, beryl irises of those almond-shaped eyes silently telling you that he _knew_ just how aroused you were by the feel of him…

With a pang of dread, you thought back to your position. Without the cover of your jeans, you’d practically been ripe for the taking — a flimsy patch of fabric acting as the only barrier between you and the slick, wet heat of his mouth just mere inches away… Your toes curled, body sinking deeper into the sloshing water until it slinked past the stem of your neck and tickled at the swell of your chin.

He couldn’t tell, could he? Earlier? Your involuntary position wasn’t necessarily modest, and given his close proximity to the very place in which you ached…

 _He had to have noticed. He HAD to have. What else…,_ you swallowed hard, pausing in thought as your fingers began to tremble against your skin, _… could he have been looking at?_

The thought was absurd. _You_ were absurd, indulging in such wicked fantasies that thrived only in the dark recesses of your mind. Perhaps you’d imagined the entire thing? Poisons often had a tendency of bringing forth a series of hallucinations once it infiltrated the blood stream, so maybe the fire in the Prince’s eyes had been nothing more than fallacy, after all? Like the melting stars had been?

_No. No, it was real… I know that it was…_

When your fingers heedlessly disappeared between your thighs, you released a soft, silken purr into the bathroom — the resounding flow of water that gushed from the spigot and into the tub swallowing the tone before it had a chance to reverberate off of the walls and alert anyone of it’s existence. You caught yourself shortly after it’s release, teeth sinking into the pliant flesh of your lower-lip before drawing it into your mouth as a type of suppression before resuming your concentration on the task at hand. You couldn't help yourself.

Your body came alive beneath your fingertips, responding to your brazen ministrations by arching against the gentle pressure that you applied against your sex, desperate for such a pressure to be directed to the pulsing knot that made you tremble with each soft stroke of your fingers. Taking in a shallow breath, you held it — index and middle fingers sliding between your folds to begin circling your clit with enough cadence to make you twitch and gasp weakly in response.

_He’d been so close… All he had to do was curl his fingers into that patch. All he had to do was curl his fingers into that damn patch and tug it to the side and…_

A whimper sounded from the back of your throat as the fictitious scene took life against the backdrop of your closed eyelids, your imagination running rampant with the visual of what the Crown Prince of Lucis would look like — _would sound like —_  with his mouth fastened to the weeping slit between your legs instead of the gorey wound that branded your inner-thigh.

You imagined Gladio behind you, his arms still roped through yours as he held you still for the carnal greed of the Prince, shamelessly encouraging your salacious exposure while growling words of amoral encouragement into your ear as you unabashedly careened along the very precipice of release.

Your breathing had become short, labored and quick — a sheen of sweat clutching at stray tendrils of your damp hair as you worked yourself with a vicious fervor. Part of you couldn't even believe that you were doing this… Fantasizing about a situation that was so far from sexual that something had to have been _wrong_ with you to think of it as anything otherwise. Noctis had saved your _life_ by extracting poison that would have, as Ignis had said, likely rotted the flesh of your leg to the point of amputation had he not done what he did in the time that he had. You were grateful to him, yes — very, _very_ much so. Beyond the justice of words, in fact. You just couldn't shake the godsdamned _visual_ of the entire process…

_Astrals, what in the hell is wrong with —_

A creak. Quiet, subtle, though definitely present — originating from that of the bathroom door and ultimately stilling your hands beneath the abating bathwater with nothing but the sound of the spigot stream’s gentle pummeling ricocheting off of the bathroom tile filling your ears.

_Shit._

Quickly, you reached forward, twisting at the knobs until silence enveloped you, and with strained ears, you listened again for the creak…

… And nothing.

Not even a shuffle of feet.

Heaving out a sigh, you hung your head, fingers disappearing beneath the water’s surface to grasp at the plug’s metallic chain before popping the stopple loose from the drain and hoisting yourself tiredly from the tub and onto the foam rug that lined the floor.

This had been too much of a risk, and you knew it. _One_ bathroom shared by _six_ people in _one_ suite? Though half of the group wasn’t even present and the other half noisily busied themselves by cleaning dishes in the kitchen didn’t necessarily mean that you were alone… Against the likes of tile, all sounds posed the risk of being carried. _Just because the damn door’s shut doesn’t mean anything, you dummy…_ you inwardly scolded, hoping against hope that no one’s ears had prickled at the strained pitch of your voice and hypothesized your activities inside of the bathroom. More importantly, you hoped against hope that no one had taken to actually pressing their ear against the bathroom door to better perceive said pitches…

 _That_ would be something out of a nightmare. First the sting, _then_ espied masturbation? If ever there was a way to die solely from embarrassment, that would be it. It’d be in your best interest to take your leave and shuffle up to bed to indulge in a good night’s rest before waking up at sunrise to assist with breakfast. Preferably before anyone got back from the bar, of course; seeing Noctis at this point in time would do nothing to help your… situation. In fact, it’d worsen it. Your skin still tingled with the illustrious promise of a neglected release, and one look from the Prince would undoubtedly make you burst at the seams right in front of him.

You just… needed to hurry.

Rather than settling on an ivory, ring-spun spa towel that lined a nearby rack, you had decided on a fluffy bathrobe instead — slipping your arms into the downy sleeves and sighing zestfully as the fleecy material clung to your dampened skin and preserved the heat of your receding body temperature. Emblazoned on the breast was an embroidered ‘G.Q’ in golden script encompassed by twin vines, and you couldn’t help but take great pleasure in sporting such a garment; only those who rented the Galdin Suite had access to Galdin’s exclusive spa wear. The bathroom was only equipped with two, however — at this point in time, given your antipathy to the recent happenings, you didn’t feel the least bit guilty about hogging one of them for the rest of the trip. Iris deserved to share the one remaining with four other men.

_Tch._

After securing the robe around yourself, you made your way to the bathroom door, fingers curling around the knob before slowly pushing it open to reveal that of a clean, dimly-lit yet empty kitchen. The countertops sparkled with sanitation and the cooking pots had been scrubbed and set out to dry on the kitchen’s island. Furrowing your brow, you glanced up toward the nautical clock that Prompto had referenced earlier and took a mental note of the time — _12:04._ You’d been inside the bathroom longer than you’d anticipated, and in turn, everyone had taken to turning in for the night. Over in the seating area, Ignis had claimed the longer of the two couches, his head carefully propped against one of the couch’s pillows as he snoozed quietly, his glasses neatly folded on top of the central coffee table alongside a half-empty glass of water in the instance of waking up with a dry throat.

On the other side of the kitchen, the door to the downstairs bedroom was closed. Given that Ignis was already in bed, you assumed that Pompto had retired for the night, as well. Much to your relief, the assurance of the hindering creak being nothing more than a natural expansion of the wood became definite and unmistakable. You had panicked over nothing.

Until…

“Done already?”

You whipped your head around, eyes befalling the Crown _fucking_ Prince as he stood with his shoulder propped against the patch of wall on the other side of the bathroom door, arms crossed loosely against his chest as he watched you through the somber locks of his bangs. “I’m sorry?” Your voice grated a little more than you’d have liked for it to, your arms instinctively lifting to cross against your own chest despite the thickset security of your bathrobe.

He motioned his head toward the bathroom.

Your heart slammed against your chest, your temples pulsing as you forcefully swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. Your body began to tremble. _What am I supposed to say?_

“Your bath,” he said simply. “Prompto mentioned that you were taking one before he went to bed.”

“Oh! Um…” you uncrossed your arms, right hand raising to comb your fingers through your wet hair as you contemplated your next words carefully. “Felt like I was in there forever.” _I WAS in there forever._ “The tub’s pretty neat, actually. I was so comfortable that I think I fell asleep, at one point…” _Yeah… Yeah, let’s just go with that…_

The Prince responded by arching a single eyebrow. “Yeah?”

His expression unnerved you. You weren’t sure if it was your paranoia that manipulated your suspicions, but the way that he lifted his eyebrow and spoke that single syllable had you questioning his curiosity… He almost spoke like he knew something that you didn’t.

_For fuck’s sake, get real._

“Yeah,” you finally agreed, nodding once before swiftly changing the subject. “Have you, uh… Have you been here long? Wasn’t expecting you guys back until at least two o’clock. When the bar closed.”

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he stood in silence, pressuring gaze fixed wholly on your face and the wet, stringy hair that framed it. “Not long,” he finally admitted. “Ten minutes. Gladio and Iris are still out. I just got tired.”

“You should get some sleep. I plan on waking up early to help Ignis with breakfast in the morning… If you don’t wake up in time to join, you’ll miss out on the pancakes.” It took every ounce of your self-control to keep the quiver out of your voice. As you’d feared, being in such a close proximity to him alongside having to deal with the strong, magnetic pull of his eyes had your stomach doing somersaults. The insatiable need to douse the flames that savagely licked at your core had you pressing your thighs together beneath the concealment of your bathrobe, jaw clenching when your body shamelessly reacted to the friction by ineptly lacquering your inner-thighs with a fresh rush of slick.

“It’s hard to say no to pancakes,” the Prince jested lowly, the racy abrasion in his tone of voice enough to make you bite the inside of your cheek. “I’ll try to make it.”

You forced a smile, nodding your head in acknowledgement before taking several steps backward, angling yourself toward that of the staircase before speaking again. “Hey… I’ve been meaning to thank you. You guys were gone when I first woke up and I didn’t get the chance to then, so… thank you. For helping me. Earlier.”

For a brief, fleeting moment, Noctis’ eyes softened. His expression transitioned into one of appreciation, of honor — his flickering irises depicting an uncertainty on how to welcome the accolade without being substandard about it, though ultimately deciding that a curt nod was sufficient enough. “Yeah. S'no problem.”

“Really…” you insisted. “You saved my life. I can’t thank you enough.”

The Prince’s head careened to one side, his eyes narrowing in on your face as he stared down the bridge of his nose at you — the smoldering blue of those piercing twin spheres darkening in color as his tongue casually rolled along his lower-lip before disappearing back into his mouth.

Something ruptured inside of you.

“ _Really_ ,” he husked. “It’s no problem. I didn’t mind.”

You couldn’t hang. _Fuck,_ you couldn’t hang. With a tight smile, you nodded your head again, feet still carrying you backwards until the bottom stair of the staircase pressed into the back of your ankles. “Well…” you trailed off, shrugging a single shoulder. “G’night. See you for breakfast.”

“‘Night.”

After turning around and slowly walking up several of the steps, you immediately quickened your pace once you were out of the Princes’ line of sight, legs whisking you up the remainder of the way before launching you across the upstairs seating area and into the safety of your (still vacant) bedroom. After you’d struggled in closing the door as quietly as you possibly could, you threw yourself on top of your bed, shedding the bathrobe with aggressive yanks and tugs before mischievously disappearing beneath the safety of your comforter…

Downstairs, however, the Crown Prince hadn’t budged — his shoulder still anchored against the drywall and his eyes still locked on the staircase, even after you’d long since trekked to the top of them. You’d been too preoccupied to notice, but a thick, glossy film veiled his eyes — pupils blown with a temperate inebriation that was bestowed upon him by an insisting Gladiolus. Pale ale on the seaside was more refreshing than people gave it credit for…

He chuckled darkly when he heard your bedroom door close, the side of his head coming to rest against that of the wall as his hooded eyes slowly drifted closed.

When he spoke, he spoke low; voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“Hopefully your bed helps you relax more than the bathtub did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Who hasn't thought of Noctis late at night, anyway? C'mon now... Can you blame me for this?~~
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> AS I'VE MENTIONED, this isn't as long or as progressive as I had intended for it to be, but I just HAD to slap down this juicy little piece on the table. I JUST HAD TO. I hope that people enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And boy, did I enjoy writing it... =X
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> As per usual, let me know what you all think so far! Kind a broad transition, but let's face it... It was bound to happen eventually. <3 Also as per usual, come and find me on Tumblr to talk about FFXV trash and look at pretty things:  
> pinkmoogle.tumblr.com


	5. Situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAALRIGHTY, GUYS! The feedback from last chapter was just... GOD, it was incredible! WAS TOTALLY NOT EXPECTING ANY OF IT, but needless to say, I loved every single comment! THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SUPPORT, POSITIVE FEEDBACK AND CLAPS ON THE BACK! <3 Seriously, though. I love it way more than any of you know.
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> Without further ado, here's the AFTERMATH of our little... situation? Kind of? Sort of?
> 
> Enjoy. <3

Unlike the first time that you’d roused, you were perfectly aware of your surroundings — even before you opened your eyes against the brilliant stream of morning sunlight that poured in through your bedroom window and warmed the length of your half-buried face against the gossamer pillows of your bed. In combination with the downy linens that loosely interlaced both of your legs, you couldn’t have possibly been more comfortable — a sluggish grumble of protest vibrating from within your chest as you sleepily rejected the dawn by closing your eyes and watching the glimmer of the cresting sun against the nearby mountains from the backs of your eyelids.

 _Just five more minutes…_ you promised yourself, face nuzzling into your pillowcase as you pointed your toes and stretched both of your legs with a held breath before releasing it with a muffled gust and quickly falling limp against the mattress, a single arm dangling languidly from the side. As the tips of your fingers lightly grazed across the glossy hardwood of the bedroom floor, you considered the activity of the lower quarters - wondering idly if anyone else had stirred beneath daybreak’s glare. Judging by the bright, irradiated streaks of carnation-pink, creamsicle-orange and pastel-blues that decorated the morning sky, it couldn’t have been later than six o’clock, thus nullifying liveliness from anyone other than maybe —

_Ignis! Oh, crap. I’m supposed to help him with breakfast this morning!_

Assiduously, you pawed at the bedspread, arms and legs working synchronically to push the sheets from your (bare?) stature before hoisting yourself from the innerspring and rushing to that of your entrusted dresser for a set of clothes. As you progressively began to dress yourself — settling on a matching set of undergarments alongside that of a soft, cotton v-neck with a pair of low-rise shorts — you thought back to when you’d turned in for the night just hours earlier, clad in nothing but the smoldering heat of an unfulfilled arousal after you’d discarded your bathrobe and buried yourself beneath your duvet. You’d been insatiable; trembling fingers heedlessly coaxing your heated flesh into orgasm while you took a patch of the comforter between your teeth to stifle the broken whine that followed, even though your bedroom hadn’t harbored another set of ears for such sounds to fall on.

You’d already taken a risk by pursuing such a task inside of the bathroom, the creak of the bathroom door exhausting your concentration and bringing forth a sense of fear that someone had been listening in on you, despite your efforts in staying quiet. Seeing Noctis standing _outside_ of the bathroom door after you’d taken your leave, however, had only exacerbated that fear — the sly, impish glint that caught the chroma of his intense stare had made you panic. _He hadn’t actually heard anything, had he? No. No, there was_ **_no_ ** _way… I wasn’t_ **_that_ ** _loud. It’s impossible._

You heaved out a sigh, palms flattening against your sides to smooth out the crinkles in your shirt before pausing to fumble nervously at the hemline. _Yeah… It’s impossible. He didn’t hear anything. You’re just being foolish._

An indistinct shuffle to your left made you blink, chin deliberately angling toward the bedraggled heap of blankets that encompassed a still-snoozing Iris — her sudden shift atop her own mattress eliciting a reticent squeak from the bedspring. Fanned out against the stark white of her pillowcase was her hair, unkempt and rumpled from sleep, though judging by the shallow circles that darkened her eyes, she hadn’t been down for very long. Whether it was from a lack of sleep or too much to drink, you weren’t certain - but seeing her again had revitalized the irritation that you’d felt towards her from the night before after she’d left your side to take advantage of the bar alongside Noctis and her older brother. You hadn’t even heard her come into the bedroom when she finally _did_ get back… You had your post-coital exhaustion to thank for that, of course, though it didn’t make you any less irritable about the situation.

Without hesitation, your hands suddenly descended, fingers curling around the knobs of one of your dresser drawers before tacitly pulling it open only to forcefully slam it closed. With a startled yip, the younger Amicitia surged forward, her pixie tresses pointing in every which direction as she cast a panic-stricken stare in your direction. “(Y/N)?” She panted, plucked eyebrows pulling together as she sleepily rubbed at her puffy eyes with the backs of her hands. “What… are you _doing?_ What happened?”

“Oops,” you replied with chagrin. “My hands slipped.”

“... Huh?”

“Nevermind, Iris. Go back to sleep. I’ll send someone up for you whenever breakfast is ready.”

After several cursory nods of her head, she toppled back down against the mattress, twisting her hands into the duvet before hauling it above her head to shield herself from the sunlight. An obscured croak of discomfort could be heard from beneath the fabric, though rather than sympathizing with her distress, you found yourself reveling in it. Had it been any other day — any other situation — you’d take pity on her. A hot cup of tea, two tablets of ibuprofen and a wet washcloth later typically replenished most of Iris’ energy on mornings similar to this one, though under no circumstance were you in the mood to get any of it for her.

If she didn’t want to be there for _you_ during your time of need, then you’d return the favor by paying the same respects — or lack thereof.

After she’d buried herself beneath the covers, you made your exit, quietly slipping from the confines of the bedroom and out onto the upstairs landing, where Gladio snored unflinchingly with his pillow _above_ his head rather than beneath it. You’d half-expected Coctura to be sculpted against his side, though there was no one — just him, a flimsy wool blanket that covered half of his body and a pair of gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his carved hips. As per usual, the man’s incogitable symmetry left you stupefied. For as long as you could remember, Gladio had taken great pride in maintaining a herculean physique, and for as long as you could remember, his hard work was constantly being rewarded with an influx of sycophantic women who’d do just about anything to have him all to themselves for a night.

And you couldn’t blame them. Had his younger sister not been your best friend…

After silently slipping past him and descending the staircase down into the lower quarters, your suspicions were confirmed when you spotted Ignis sifting through the cabinetry in the kitchen, haphazardly grasping at different utensils and kitchenware before neatly aligning them along the span of the modest island, and all without spotting your leisurely approach until you’d taken to actually vocalizing your presence. “Need any help this morning?”

The mixing bowl that he held between his palms was almost thrown into the air from terror, his face paling as his entire body grew rigid from the shock of your sudden company. “Gracious…” he breathed, quickly setting the bowl onto the countertop before adjusting the perch of his glasses, which had comically skewed from the jolt. “(Y/N). What are you doing awake at this hour?”

You shrugged your shoulders amicably, a grin pulling against the corner of your mouth. “I’m feeling a lot better this morning. I slept well. Figured you could use an extra set of hands for preparing breakfast… Since there’s, yknow. Two more of us than usual.”

Ignis’ expression was one of perplexity and admiration. “Oh?”

You nodded your head. “Yep. If it’s alright with you, that is.”

“Of course it is,” he genially assured. “I’m just surprised that you’d even be interested, considering the night that you’ve had… Did the bath help, I wonder?”

Your cheeks bloomed with colour at the reference. Fortunately, he had taken that moment to turn his back to you — his absorption in collecting the remaining implements taking precedence over your darkening, disconcerted facial expression, and for that, you were grateful. You already tussled with the uncertainty of being heard by Noctis... If _Ignis,_ of all people,  were to act as a secondary tally to that list, you’d pack your luggage and _walk_ back to Caem. _Had_ he taken notice of your guilty blush, however, you’d undoubtedly be exposed — the strategist didn’t act as the Prince’s royal adviser for nothing, after all; his intelligence was insurmountable. Based on the stories that you’d heard from Iris throughout the years, Ignis was skilled and adept in many, many categories — social and behavioral psychology being one them. Having been so attuned to the Crown Prince of Lucis, detecting a rift in someone’s mood — no matter how slight — had practically become that of a second nature to him. Though you may have flown beneath his radar the night before, your timidity at the mere mention of the bathtub would undeniably give him reason to suspect you of carnal motives...

And you couldn’t risk that.

“It did, yes,” you finally admitted, sweeping the bulk of your hair over to one shoulder in a feeble attempt to shroud the rosy tint of your cheeks before quickly padding across the tile of the kitchen floor and toward that of the stainless steel refrigerator located opposite Ignis. “Ultimately, however, I don’t owe it to the bath. I owe it to your generosity. That second Potion really did the trick.”

As you hoisted open one of the doors, you heard him grunt his approval at your words. “I should have supplied you with a Hi-Potion to begin with,” he uttered quietly, speaking moreso to himself than he was to you. “However, it’s no matter any longer. It’s good to hear — to _see_ , rather — that you’re well again. I’m sure the others will be relieved, as well. Your condition caused quite a — oh…”

Lining the upper and middle shelves of the refrigerator was an abundance of fruits, vegetables and packaged herbs — their kaleidoscopic blend of vibrant colors temporarily spellbinding you into silence, and the abrupt transition of the adviser's commentary had indicated that he’d turned his head to address you only to find that you’d been far too preoccupied with the cooler’s contents to wholly focus on what he had to say. “The kitchen didn’t have a lot of fresh produce, so I took it upon myself to pay a visit to the shop this morning,” he explained casually, as if the hundreds, possibly thousands of gil that he’d used to purchase all of it hadn’t put a notable dent in his funds. “We’re stocked until departure, I’d say.”

You slowly nodded your agreement, lips deliberately rolling together to stifle a giggle that bubbled in your chest as you continued your examination of the refrigerator’s contents, eyes skimming over everything from tins of cardinal-red strawberries and succulent blueberries to Leidan peppers and Lucian tomatoes.  “ _I’d say._ ”

Ignis cleared his throat with a quiet, placid cough, knuckles rapping against the central island to draw your attention away from that of the refrigerator and towards the exhibition of kitchenware that cluttered the countertop. When you turned your head to acknowledge him, his expression was _almost_ one of embarrassment; a touch of pink rimmed the prominent ridges of his cheekbones while his mouth pulled back into a taut, thin line of assiduity. “Purchases _aside_ ,” he smoothly defended. “What do you reckon that we prepare for breakfast?”

It had only taken but a brief exchange of ideas, opinions and propositions before the two of you ultimately decided on an ambrosial spread of blueberry pancakes with sliced strawberries, bananas and cantaloupe alongside a serving of juice from the pulp of Duscaen oranges. Seeing as how the Quayside kitchen lacked the convenience of a juicing appliance, Ignis had taken it upon himself to slice and bleed the fruit over that of a serving pitcher while you carefully began sifting together the usual and customary sugar, flour, salt and baking powder into a mixing bowl before pouring in the joined serving of milk and egg.

“Take care not to over-beat prior to adding the butter,” Ignis instructed, setting down half of a depleted orange before drying his hands on a rag and taking up residence directly behind you — watching from over your shoulder as you dipped your whisk into the creamy mixture and carefully began to stir. “Good... _Good_.... Just like that. Now, for the butter…”

He’d descended his hand over to your left, grasping at the tablespoon that held the necessary accumulation of margarine before turning it upside down and tapping it against the side of the mixing bowl until it plopped down into the batter. Separating it with your whisk, you began to stir again — dragging the metal along the edges of the bowl before working your way inward with smooth, concentrated twists of your wrist. Behind you, Ignis vocalized his approval with something of a groan — the deepened drawl rumbling from within his chest and tickling at your ears until the shell of them turned pink from the praise.

Fighting against a smile, you continued to stir — teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheek as he withdrew from his position behind you to find purchase at your side.

“Now to add the blueberries,” he informed, fingers curling around a cluster of them from within a nearby tin before dropping them one by one into the mixture with satisfying little _plops!_ upon impact. With each one applied, you dragged it through the batter - mixing it evenly through the mixture before taking to crushing one every so often to include hints of the juice. It was an old trick that your father had taught you on those Saturday mornings in the spring, when breakfast had started becoming his responsibility rather than your mother’s - who’d already fled for the plains of Duscae.

Partaking in his method again had made you sigh with nostalgia.

“I quite like that you’re doing,” Ignis commented, erecting an index finger to address the purple juice that streaked inconstantly throughout the mixture. “It’s clever.”

“An old trick,” you replied simply, smiling one last time to yourself before removing your whisk and setting it down atop a folded napkin. “But, the first batch is ready to go! Would you like to do the honors, or should I —”

Ignis retrieved the mixing bowl before you could finish. “You may be talented in the art of mixing, (Y/N), but I have no idea how you are with that of a griddle. If you’re anything like Noctis, it’d be in my best interest to keep you as far away from kitchen appliances as I possibly can.”

You dropped your jaw in feigned shock, arm extending to playfully swat at the adviser, who’d shielded the sprightly strike with a roll of his shoulder before expending the most infectious laugh that you’d ever heard. “I’ve got it taken care of. Don’t worry. Perhaps you should start on —”

“What are you saying about me?”

Your mouth went dry.

“Nothing that you don’t already know, Highness,” came Ignis languidly, his seafoam hues flickering from you over to Noctis, who must’ve woken and emerged from the confines of his bedroom when your back had been turned. Judging by the sleep that grated his tone of voice, however, he couldn’t have been awake for very long. Had the customary husk of the Crown Prince not permanently embedded itself into your memory, you wouldn’t have thought it to be his. As a matter of fact, he _hardly_ sounded like himself — almost as if he’d gargled with gravel rather than mouthwash.

It piqued your curiosity.

Turning your head, you glanced over the ridge of your shoulder back at him - eyes first befalling the mess of black hair that commonly resulted from a good night’s rest, though when you lowered your gaze to perceive that of his face...

You couldn’t help but quirk a curious eyebrow.

“Well, look at you, Prince Charmless...“ Gladio had appeared at the foot of the staircase, hulking arms crossed against his (now clothed) chest as he regarded the Prince’s condition with a sly, insightful smirk. “Not sure if anyone’s been kind enough to tell you, but you look like straight-up ass.”

“What all did you give him, anyway?” Behind Noctis, Prompto had appeared in the bedroom’s doorway, pale digits carding through his own disheveled tresses as he bent his head to get a better look at the Prince’s face. “Oh, geez… It wasn’t liquor, was it? That’s exactly why I don’t drink liqu—”

Noctis suddenly molded an open palm to the side of Prompto’s face, nudging him away with a look of pained distaste. “However bad I look, your breath is twice as worse…”

The giggle that his gesture had elicited from you had caught his attention, though as soon as he dragged his eyes across the room to meet yours, you dropped your gaze, focusing your attention instead on slicing the leafy stems from your row of aligned strawberries and dropping them into a serving bowl before moving on to the bananas. The boys had taken that time to join you and Ignis in the kitchen, each taking a seat at the breakfast bar and engaging in conversation about the happenings of the night before — everything from the scare of your attack to Coctura’s (surprising) denial of Gladio’s advances out at the bar.

“You should have seen it,” Noctis muttered, tiredly dragging his palms down the length of his face as he rested his elbows on top of the counter. “It was brutal to watch.”

“Not as brutal as it was watching _you_ , you trainwreck,” Gladio jested, knuckling the Prince’s shoulder with enough force to make him clutch at the lip of the bar to stay balanced. “You only had four beers. _Pale_ beers, to boot. Lightweight.”

“I couldn’t even tell…” you suddenly chimed in, dropping the remainder of the cantaloupe slices into the fruit bowl before setting it down before the three of them. Immediately, you felt the Prince’s stare - the sheer heat of it making your scalp prickle as warmth cascaded across your cheeks. After a slow exhale, you decided to meet that stare - _immediately_ regretting the decision when he dropped his chin to watch you through his notable curtain of stygian lashes, the corner of his mouth twitching when you visibly responded to the scrutiny with a sudden shift in position followed by a clear of your throat.

At that precise moment, Ignis had taken up residence at your side, a porcelain plate stacked with steaming disks of blueberry pancakes balanced on an open palm before casually being lowered onto the countertop alongside the bowl of fruit, in which Prompto had already taken to indulging in by popping a succulent strawberry into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully before going back for seconds.

Rather than sending someone up for Iris, Gladio had merely taken to cupping a hand around his mouth and shouting for her. Much to your surprise, she responded fairly quickly — trotting down the staircase looking just as rough as Noctis had, perhaps moreso, though the jubilance in her voice upon taking notice of the supplied breakfast had implied that the “hangover” wasn’t as astringent as you’d thought it to be...

Until she spoke.

“ _Six_ ,” she finally sighed, finding purchase on top of the stool that sat parallel to Noctis before dropping the side of her head against his shoulder. “I… feel like Death. _Worse_ than Death. Why’d you even let me drink, Noct? You were supposed to be my voice of reason.”

_Gag._

Just to excuse yourself from the conversation, you took to meandering over to Ignis’ collection of Duscaen oranges, taking hold of one before positioning it over a spare drinking glass that lined the countertop and squeezing it between your fingers until it steadily trilled. Rotating it within your palm, you squeezed again — harder this time —though when a pair of svelte hands suddenly, yet carefully encircled yours, you precipitously stopped.

“The trick…” Ignis spoke from behind you. “... is to not focus your fingers on one spot. You need to squeeze the orange in it’s entirety.” His palms tightened around your hands, manipulating your fingers and the pressure behind them until the orange gushed into the glass below — it’s honeyed juices lacquering your fingers and wetting the tips of Ignis’ as he sequentially maintained the compression until the pulp depleted entirely. “It’s all about distributing the right amount of pressure…”

Your teeth raked over your bottom lip when he removed the peel from your hands and stepped away, the skin of your knuckles still tingling from where he had just grasped them even as you clutched the drinking glass and carried it over to Iris, who’d still been preoccupied by her conversation with Noctis to notice that you’d even set it down in front of her.

For thirty minutes, the six of you had made your plates and ate in harmony - the sustenance of the orange juice and the fruit reanimating the lackluster complexions of Iris and Noctis by sapping the ailing fatigue from their muscles and replacing it with a visible energy that promoted lively tableside conversation. For the first time since the attack, she finally took to inquiring about your condition - simplifying the concern with a straightforward “are you feeling any better?” before taking an inordinate interest in her sliced bananas when the rest of the group joined in on the discussion. As it turned out, _everyone_ had been worried… Not because your condition threatened to end the vacation, but because things could have escalated to the point of complete and total rubicon had measures not been taken the way that they had. You took that opportunity to finally extend your thanks to Gladio, who brushed off your gratitude with a smirk and a shake of his head before assuring you that it wasn’t an issue, and that if it boiled down to it, they’d do it again in a heartbeat.

It had been at that point that Iris interjected, pushing her empty, syrup-laden plate away from herself before casually inquiring about the activities for the day. Much to your surprise, Ignis had admitted to a “plan”, though such a venture wasn’t due to be engaged in until midday. Based off of everyone’s stunned expressions, he’d been the only one to know about it — thus refusing to release any details until the time came for preparations. With more than a few hours to spare until then, Iris had (remarkably) turned to you to convey a peculiar suggestion:

“What do you say we go get massages?”

* * *

 Had you heard her correctly? _Massages?_ Just the two of you? Had you fictitiously witnessed her lax and derelict behaviour towards you during breakfast, or did she _really_ have the audacity to propose a one-on-one activity after the way that she’d treated you since the night before? While a small, insignificant part of you felt relief at the invitation, a much larger, preeminent part immediately felt offended by the negligence of the situation at hand. Iris had known you long enough to know when something was on your mind  — “ _your facial expression is so bitchy_ ”, she used to say; apparently, you liked to sport insensitive scowls rather than speak your mind (right away). Whether or not you’d done so during breakfast, you weren’t sure — the last thing on your mind was the way you wore your face, but if your suspicions had been correct, Iris was proposing a brief retreat from the boys in order to address what was on your mind.

You could only _hope_ so, anyway  — had it been for any other reason, you’d surely lose it.

After you had (surprisingly) voiced your compliance, the two of you had assisted Ignis by collecting everyone’s dishes and piling them next to the kitchen sink, where Prompto had taken on the responsibility of rinsing and washing while Gladio took to drying. As to be expected, Noctis avoided the cleaning in its entirety by retreating back to the bedroom - closing the door to that of a crack before flopping down against his mattress and snoozing away the free time.

Not like you were complaining. Though seeing him again that morning had incinerated your insides, you still couldn’t shake the _sneaking_ suspicion of why he’d been back inside the suite before anyone else had last night… Why he was directly outside of the bathroom door practically _waiting_ for you to walk through it. As much as you wanted to believe that the Crown Prince hadn’t heard anything, you couldn’t even truly convince yourself of it actually being true.

You’d heard the creak… You’d _heard_ it. If that wasn’t evidence enough of someone being on the other side, you weren’t sure what was. The way that he looked at you this morning, too… He _knew_ something. You’d fallen prey to Noctis’ overpowering stare ever since Cape Caem, though something about it had dramatically changed - something dark, something… temporal? - since meeting you outside the bathroom. So much, in fact, that holding his gaze for more than just a second had become unbearable - _physically_ so.

Some time away from it would show your nerves mercy, even if it meant spending some unwanted time with Iris and risking a rise in blood pressure.

After the two of you had withdrawn to your bedroom to get changed, however, she collectedly confirmed your conjecture by admitting to wanting to talk about everything that happened - to “take a break from the chaos”, as she’d put it. Though the way that she worded herself sounded strangely scripted, you couldn’t bring yourself to argue - instead expressing reprieve at the opportunity to discuss everything with just the two of you rather than the entire group, though admittedly, you weren’t entirely sure of the difference that it’d even make...

Iris had known that it’d been an accident. While the scene that she stumbled upon may have _seemed_ fallacious and inappropriate, she _had_ to have known otherwise… Right? You hadn’t intended on any of it. Had you been paying attention to that of your surroundings rather than the congenital grace and finesse of the Crown Prince, you’d have spotted the Reapertail in time to retreat  — calling out for Noctis and Gladio before it even had the  _chance_ to strike you down. After its collapse, they’d look to you with solace, voicing their relief at not only your safety, but your awareness of the situation, as well, and to celebrate the successful slaughter, _everyone_ would have taken to the bar rather than just half of the group.

Things could have turned out so differently… Iris wouldn’t be acting so strangely toward you, for one, and for two, Noctis wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see you in quite possibly the most vulnerable state of your entire life. You wouldn’t have sought out the luxury of the suite’s bathtub, and you certainly wouldn’t have faced the possibility of such luxuries being so audaciously overheard by the one person that had evoked it.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you hated it, though you’d also be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t. Admittedly, such a turn of events had both excited and scared you for what to come of the rest of the trip — with this being only the second day of your stay, there was no telling what other melodramatic experiences would act in accordance with last night’s mishaps.

But if there was one thing that you _needed_ to focus on, however, it was Iris  — since it _was_ only the second day, any and all qualms that were suppressed on the situation had to be dealt with. Despite the guarantee of getting to talk with her about it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it’d be far more complicated than you’d expected it to be. While Iris knew _you_ well enough to know when something was wrong, you also knew _her_ well enough to know when something was wrong...

And something... was definitely wrong.

* * *

“I’ve _always_ wanted to try this!” Iris exclaimed with a grin as she hoisted herself up onto one of the massage tables, allowing her legs to dangle for but a moment before angling herself down onto her stomach and folding her arms to rest beneath her chin. Directly across from her, you’d done the same  — finding purchase on top of the bench after discarding your chiffon slipover until you were clad in nothing but that of one of your bikinis. While it’d taken some serious convincing on Iris’ part to get you to agree on wearing something so sparse for a massage, she actually made a decent point in regards to it — a “ _how are they supposed to truly work into your muscles with a bunch of clothes on, huh_?” was all that it took for you to concur. Had it not been for the slipovers, Gladio likely wouldn’t have allowed the two of you to leave the suite  — insisting on a change of clothes alongside a derogatory comment about a masseur's “true intentions”. Fortunately, he’d been too preoccupied with kitchen duty to pay your chosen attire much mind, instead bidding you and Iris a farewell with a dismissive wave over the shoulder and a “we’ll come and get you when it’s time to get ready”.

Even as the fibers of the towel bit into the bare skin of your stomach, you were grateful to have been so dressed down. While the pang in your thigh had fully subsided, the soreness of your muscles did not, aching similarly to that of a five-mile jog after weeks of inactivity. It was an ache that you needed to address _without_ the hindrance of clothes, and when the masseur (the less attractive of the two, as to be expected) slicked up the palms of his hands with vanilla body oil and encircled the back of your left thigh, you expressed the severity of said ache with a cringe and a clench of your jaw. “I’ll be gentle,” he soothed, fingers tapping against your flesh reassuringly. “I promise.”

And gentle he was, at first. After his coaxing ministrations had fully promoted a sense of relaxation within you, he gradually began to apply more pressure — fingertips pressing directly into your leg muscles to pivot and twist against the clusters of scar tissue before withdrawing to run the heels of his palms along the length of your thighs only to go back in and do it again. Every so often, you’d sigh your contentment, body yielding to the pressure of his hands by falling lax and passive against the tabletop.

“I’m sure you needed this,” came Iris from the other table, voice muffled by her forearm after complying with her own masseur's request to turn her head so that he could access her neck muscles.

“Yeah,” you replied simply. “I really did.”

A moment of silence came over the two of you, awkward and inelegant in nature before Iris broke the ice with that of a sigh. “Gladdy thought that we should talk about what happened.”

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, head lifting from its resting position against your folded arms in order to glance over at the brunette across from you. “Gladio?” You asked, head craning when Iris lifted her own head to meet your puzzled stare. " _Gladio_ thought that we should talk about what happened? I thought that you wanted to.”

“I mean, I do,” she began. “He just suggested that we get together like this.”

You couldn’t find the words to reply. While _plenty_ sat at the tip of your tongue, you withheld them, knowing full well that if you released that floodgate, there’d be no stopping it. A multitude of questions bubbled in your chest, but you didn’t voice them - not yet. Instead, you merely craned a single brow in apprehension as the younger Amicitia heaved out a sigh and closed her eyes to hide from your expression. “Whatever it is that you have to say…” you finally began, “... just say it.”

Iris didn’t open her eyes right away, though when she did, they looked distrustful — the enchanting sparkle that often burnished her honeyed hues replaced with something cold, stoic and accusatory. “Did you…” A sigh, a shift. “Did you do all of it on purpose?”

Immediately, you felt your cheeks darken - though not out of embarrassment. “ _What?_ ”

“Did you do all of —”

“No, I heard what you said,” you swiftly interrupted, propping yourself up onto your elbows before narrowing your eyes in a glare. “Is that what you think? That I got myself into an _awful_ situation and risked my life… _on purpose?_ For what, Iris?”

She closed her mouth just as quickly as she’d opened it, lips rolling together into a tight line as she shook her head from left to right. “That’s not what I —”

“ _For what?_ ” You interrupted again, emphasising the repeated question with a curl of your upper-lip. “I want to hear you actually _say_ it.”

“(Y/N)...” Iris started, her frigid stare quickly softening into a look of indiscretion and unease. “I’m not trying to upset you here, but —“

“No. We’re past that point, Iris. I’m upset. I’m upset because you didn’t take _any_ initiative on saving me from the humiliation of waking up half-dressed and _alone._ You weren’t even inside of the hotel! You were out with Gladio, and you were out with Noctis  — drowning your ‘sorrows’ while I was left to my own confusion and insecurity. Had it not been for Ignis and his consideration for my well being, I’d _still_ be in pain. As a matter of fact, had it not been for him, I’d refuse to leave the bedroom out of embarrassment _alone._ ”

She looked distressed. With pulled eyebrows, she dropped her face, burying it into the crook of her elbow and sighing into the towel beneath her as the masseur continued his pacifying ministrations against the apex of her spine. Even from your position, you could tell that she was no longer relaxed — body stiff and rigid beneath the man’s laboring palms, though a reassuring tap against her shoulder from him had her melding against the tabletop again. After several moments of silence, you pushed out a sigh, burying your own face into your forearm and mentally fighting the urge to lunge for her by concentrating on the hands that had elevated from the backs of your thighs to strenuously knead at the subtle curve of your lower back. If you had any sense, you’d remove yourself from the massage table and leave Iris by her lonesome before heading back to the hotel to occupy yourself with any and every task just to keep your temper at bay as long as it meant staying away from _her._ A desire to delve more into the situation, however, kept you from doing so.

Why would she even think something so ludicrous? Had she really thought that less of you to assume that you’d stage everything for the sake of attention? That had to have been what she meant by _‘doing it on purpose’_ , right?

 _No,_ you thought to yourself, jaw clenching as the speculation made your blood boil. _It’s Noctis... It has to be. He was still sucking out the poison when she got there with the others, I’m sure. Seeing it had to have ticked her off. She’s…_

“... Jealous.”

Iris lifted her head. “What?”

“You’re jealous. That’s why you’re acting so shitty.”

The brunette sputtered for a moment, blood darkening the creamy planes of her cheeks as her body grew rigid for a second time. “ _Why_ would you even suggest something like that?”

“Why would _you_?” You questioned, gaze hardening at the way that she shook her head incredulously. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yes, it is, seeing as how it isn’t true!”

“Isn’t it, though? You walked into an ill-timed situation that _looked_ inappropriate, and you automatically assumed it to be such. If I wanted someone’s mouth on me, I damn sure wouldn’t risk my life to - “

“Stop!” Iris huffed, arms unfolding to signal for your silence. “Just stop! I get it, okay?”

Your nostrils flared with an exhale, breaking eye contact with a scoff before resting the side of your head against the massage table, the magical fingers of your masseur traveling the length of your spine only to squeeze and stroke the tender flesh of your shoulders before descending back down to your lower back. While you could feel Iris’ eyes on you, awaiting some sort of acknowledgement, you refused to give it to her. As far as you were concerned, there wasn’t anything left to discuss. You had said your peace even after you’d told yourself not to, and judging by the way Iris reacted, you knew that it struck home…

She couldn’t have made it anymore obvious that what you said had been right.

You heard her sigh across from you. “(Y/N)... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Okay? We’re on vacation. We shouldn’t be fighting like this.”

“Then maybe you should have more faith in me.”

“It isn’t as though I don’t,” she countered quietly. “I just… I don’t know. It’s not like I blame you for what happened, but it was a little shocking to see, I guess. The aftermath. My brother and Noctis did the right thing, but I…” she paused, teeth sinking into the supple flesh of her lower-lip as she contemplated her next choice of words. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze, however — the side of your face still resting against that of the massage table. “You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes, body rocking in rhythm with the tug and pull of the massage against the span of your back, but after a moment, you nodded your head in confirmation. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“No, really… I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

Finally, you lifted your head and shifted your gaze to meet Iris’ trouble stare, and the moment you did, a wave of nostalgia clutched at your insides like a vise; her expression had been the exact same one that she’d worn back in Caem as the two of you waited on the front porch for the boys’ arrival, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned in dread and uncertainty as she awaited a substantial approval from you. As much as you weren’t ready to yield to the amnesty, you found yourself submitting with ease — a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth to assure Iris of your forgiveness and, in turn, she visibly relaxed against her tabletop and returned the expression with a nod of her head.

It was better this way - really, it was. While the entire situation couldn’t have possibly been more horrible than it already was, it wasn’t worth losing your best friend over… Even if she _was_ being petty about it. While you could understand her frustrations, you couldn’t entirely _blame_ them… You _didn’t_ risk your life for the sake of attention, of course, but you couldn’t deny that the attention that followed was something that you necessarily minded. From Ignis’ hospitality to the eclipsed stares of the Crown Prince himself, you weren’t sure whether to be grateful for the Reapertail sting or not… Not like you’d ever disclose that to Iris, however.

While she only knew an extent of the situation, she didn’t know the bulk of it — had it been anyone _other_ than someone that she’d crushed on since childhood, you’d tell her in a heartbeat. You’d tell her about the way that his mouth felt, about the way that he looked up at you with such dissolution while he sucked the poison from your body that you physically melted beneath his touch. You’d tell her about the way he waited for you outside the bathroom door, and you’d tell her about how hard it was to keep your hands to yourself at the first sight of his hooded gaze.

You’d tell her about how just looking at him throughout the course of the morning had made you tremble — your control shamelessly crumbling beneath the pressure of a gaze that repressed something unchaste and carnal, a gaze that harbored a filthy secret known only to _him_.

But, you couldn’t. For _obvious_ reasons, you couldn’t. Even if it killed you, you’d have to keep your lips sealed in regards to Noctis. Though you and Iris had _never_ kept anything from each other in all of the years that you’d been friends, an exception would have to be made  — for the sake of the friendship. After all, telling your best friend that you experienced a spark of chemistry with her lifelong crush would be ruinous and tragic on a number of counts…

_Who’s the bad friend now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "BUT? PINKY? Y WE NO GET ANY SMUT? Y WE NO GET MOAR OUT OF THIS? Y U LET US DOWN?"
> 
> Because I'm a cold goddess. That is why. HOWEVERRRR... Something special and crafted SPECIFICALLY AT THE REQUEST OF THE READERS is coming next... Maybe people won't hate me so much when they read it. ;3
> 
> You know how it goes, my babies! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS!


	6. Standpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the thing, guys... I did the thing, and now I want to crawl into a hole and fantasize about it for the rest of my life. Someone take these thoughts away from me before I do something drastic with them. Haaah, just kidding... I already did.  
>  ~~Slay me.~~
> 
> Obviously, this ISN'T storyline progression. Not even a little bit. As per the requests of EVERYONE, this is a reiteration from a different perspective. 
> 
> Can you guess whose? ;)

“I think I’m gonna head back.”

“You kiddin’ me? It’s not even midnight yet, Noct,” Gladio complained, reaching across Iris to grab at the stained glass of the Prince’s beer bottle before giving it a firm shake. “You’ve got another swig left. Finish it, at least.”

Didn’t Gladio know that he didn’t drink beer? He didn’t like the taste — never had. Back in Insomnia, dinner was often served with a glass of white or red wine, (depending on the main course), and in the evenings — given that his itinerary was free of studies and combat training — he’d often sneak a glass of Regis’ aged bourbon and down the entire thing with a pinched nose. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed the taste — right hand to the Six, he _didn’t —_ but he _did_ enjoy the way that the bourbon made him feel. It all started with a warmth that blossomed in the pit of his stomach, gradually spreading to his arms, legs, chest and eventually his face, where his muscles would pleasantly yield to the intemperance and make his eyes heavy enough to fall asleep without trouble.

That was why he did it, he supposed — to fall asleep. Without the physical exertion of combat training or the mental exhaustion of immersing himself in his studies, he needed _something_ … Without that kind of aid, he’d spend hours staring at the ceiling of his quarters. If and when sleep _did_ claim him, however, it was never for long. The nightmares had always disturbed it, and abruptly so. His father’s bourbon, on the other hand, had managed to keep them at bay. For some reason.

At 18, Gladio had introduced him to beer by letting him have the first drink of one that he’d purchased for himself. The Prince had swallowed the mouthful with a grimace, shuddering as the carbonation made his stomach churn. For ten minutes, he’d battled with the aftertaste — an indescribable twang that tasted like old, earthy parchment and ultimately rendered him nauseous. He hadn’t asked for another drink after that, denying the royal shield’s every attempt at offering him a bottle, even during the nights in which the four of them would camp at a haven after Insomnia’s fall, where Noctis often felt as though he needed it’s pacifying aid the most.

Why he’d taken to indulging in _pale beer_  out at the bar, however, he had no idea, but after he’d obeyed Gladio’s command by tipping back the remainder of his fourth bottle, he knew that he had to call it; the buzz that came from the malt was… different. He didn’t feel tired, like he often did with the bourbon. Instead, he felt restless… Unsettled. While his entire body felt heavy and unwieldy, his mind did not — thoughts ricocheting off of one another and painting his retinas with visuals of the night’s earlier plights. The intoxication had encouraged him to really _think_ about them… Maybe _that’s_ why he’d kept drinking? Whether it was to escape Iris’ giggles and constant paws at his shoulder, or whether it was to further reflect on how everything had played out with (Y/N)’s Reaptertail sting, he wasn’t sure… All he knew was that he was ready to go back to the hotel.

_I wonder how she’s doing…_

When he’d pushed open the front door and stumbled into the living room of their suite, he was quickly hushed by Prompto, who’d taken to tossing a hand towel in his general direction only to sorely miss. “Quiet!” The sharpshooter hissed, pressing a finger against his lips before craning his chin toward a snoozing Ignis atop one of the nearby sofas. “If you wake him up, he might kill you. He just went to sleep.”

“And what are you doing?” Noctis mumbled. “Watching over him like a creep?”

Prompto scoffed. “No! I’m about to go to bed, too, actually… Had to get a glass of water. Why are you back so early, anyway? Aren’t Gladio and Iris with you?”

The Prince shook his head. “No. They’re still out.”

“So…” Prompto drawled, an eyebrow craning in curiosity. “Again, why are _you_ back so early?”

Noctis offered a shrug in response, fists delving into the pockets of his shorts as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Tired, I guess. Can’t think straight out there… It’s noisy.”

“I’m surprised Iris didn’t follow you back…” the gunner replied in amusement, speaking into the aperture of his drinking glass before tipping it back enough for a small sip, suppressing a snort and nearly spatting it back out whenever Noctis glanced over his shoulder to check for her presence before wrinkling his nose and nodding his agreement.

“She’s toasted,” he affirmed. “I’m sure it won’t be long before she tries.”

“Well, (Y/N) got into the bath not too long ago… If luck’s on our side, she’ll be out before Iris gets back. I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely not on board to volunteer for vomit cleanup duty…”

Immediately, Noctis shifted his gaze from Prompto to that of the bathroom door, eyes descending to perceive the slice of light that spilled onto the hardwood from beneath it. “A bath?” He quietly inquired, ears perking at the resonance of running water on the other side.

Prompto nodded. “Mhm. She woke up earlier, when you guys were all still out. Ignis noticed that she still walked funny, so he gave her another Potion and recommended a bath. She was pretty eager to take one… Guess she’s still hurtin’, you know?”

The Prince grunted softly in acknowledgement, temples pulsing as he clenched his jaw at the thought of (Y/N) on the other side of the bathroom door… It was a relief to hear that she’d been healing. Then again, she’d been left to Ignis’ care — after they’d carried her up to bed and bandaged her leg, the fear of an unsettling recovery had dwindled once the adviser had announced that he’d stay in to look after her. While it felt wrong to accompany Gladio and Iris out to the bar - especially without the company of the others, and _especially_ under such edgy circumstances - Noctis practically found it to be imperative.

He’d never saved someone’s life like that before… He’d been taught the bare necessities of what to do in such a situation, of course, but he’d never actually _done_ it  — and he never thought that he would, either. The chances of having to suck the poison out of a wound was slim to none in this day and age, for the properties of Antidotes and Potions were so potent that any alternative possibility was pointless to undergo. He _almost_ didn’t do it, either… The thought of both blood and poison being in his mouth was enough to make him gag, but after seeing the way that Gladio had to slap her to get her to wake up had made him panic. He had no other choice…

All of it had happened so fast. After he’d gotten her jeans off and saw the pulsating wound that marked her leg, his stomach surged…

He’d seen plenty of injuries throughout his journey with Prompto, Gladio and Ignis, most of which were worn by _himself_ from asinine recklessness out on the battlefield, but _never_ had he seen anything like that. It glistened gruesomely beneath the beam of Gladio’s flashlight, a cloudy combination of both blood and venom that steadily leaked from the pit of the sting and trickled down the swell of her thigh to stain the sand beneath her. After Gladio had taken to securing her against his chest, he’d shouted at the Prince; the fever had dangerously escalated, and Noctis had known that if he didn’t do something right then, they’d lose her.

His eyes squeezed close when he descended, mouth fastening over the injury and sucking a mouthful of the tart, metallic fluid into his mouth before inhaling sharply through his nose and taking another pull. Her scream had made him cringe — the heated flesh of her thigh quivering against his mouth as he pulled, and pulled, and _pulled_ …

He knew that it hurt.

It pained him, in fact, knowing that her screams were sourced from the extraction of the poison, but with each drag against the sting, he retrieved less and less of the acrid swill and more of just her blood. It’d taken a while for her to settle in Gladio’s arms, though when she finally did, he boldly risked a glance upward… Cheeks hollowing in another forcible pull as he instantly locked his eyes with hers.

She looked demoralized, wrecked and ruined, and all within a matter of minutes. Before engaging their bounty, she’d looked nice; hair and makeup accentuating her symmetrical facial structure enough to attract a second glance, though the infliction had done naught to preserve that. Inky blotches pooled beneath her weary eyes from the tears and stray locks of her hair clung to the wet streaks that lined her cheeks, but in the midst of her incoherence and disarray, there was a flare to her stare. She watched him with a keen, avid thirst, irises flickering from one of his eyes to the other before dropping to watch the way that his mouth strenuously moved against her. As she watched him — _and as he watched her —_ her marring whimpers and restless shifts had almost completely ceased, as if the eye-contact alone had been the sole alleviation to her misery.

But amidst these fervent ministrations and deep, nasal intakes of breath, Noctis quickly realized…

...that he could _smell_ her.  

Indistinct against the pungent odor of the poison and the blood, but it was _there_. He picked up on it immediately, the floor of his mouth instantaneously flooding with saliva from the sheer _carnality_ of it and magnifying his pupils into swollen, ravenous pits of gluttony and greed. Her scent was wispy and almost floral in nature, damp but not foul, with a salty distinction that classified it as one thing, and one thing only...

She was enjoying this.

To corroborate his suspicion, however, Noctis shamelessly lowered his gaze — eyes befalling the patch of fabric that sat only a matter of inches away from his face and almost _groaned_ against her flesh when he perceived a moistened strip directly in the center...

**_Oh, f u c k._ **

Impulsively, he drew his gaze up again, pupils blown and dilated to an absolute maximum as he watched the realization of what he had just done, what he had just _seen_ , hinder her facial expression and coax her into complete and total unconsciousness.

And if he was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t stop thinking about any of it.

“Anyway,” came Prompto suddenly, clapping the Prince on the shoulder before turning on his heel and trudging off toward the bedroom. “I’m out, man. Not sure when you plan on going to sleep, but when you do, don’t wake me up, yea’? First night with a _real_ bed in daaaays… I’m gonna sleep with my gun under my pillow, just so you know. Keep that in mind in case you plan on knocking anything over.”

“Yeah, yeah… ‘Night.”

“G’night!”

After Prompto had closed the door to their shared bedroom, Noctis risked a glance over at Ignis, who breathed quietly and contently in slumber, lips parted ever slightly to reveal the stark white of his teeth underneath. His position hadn’t budged since first coming into the suite, and if he hadn’t stirred at the conversation between he and Prompto, then he likely wouldn’t stir at all.

The Prince made a mental note to poke fun at him about it the following morning.

_A Havocfang could stick its tongue right up your nose and I doubt that you’d even notice, Specs._

With a breathy chuckle, Noctis crossed the length of the living room, the soles of his shoes rapping against the hardwood as he directed himself toward the kitchen. It’d been a few hours since Ignis had prepared a supper of whitefish soup, but surely there’d be a bowl or two of leftovers to salvage…

Right as he’d gone to pass the bathroom door, however, he slowed — ears prickling at the sound of something… _vocal?_

Perplexed, the Prince made a face, chin suddenly angling to the bathroom door on his immediate right, ears straining to pick up on something, _anything_ , outside of the pummel of the water spigot, but after several moments of listening to nothing but the resounding echo of the damned tap, he gave it up with a furrowed brow before progressing into the kitchen and over toward the refrigerator to peruse its contents...

… only to groan in disapproval after surveying the shelves. While they weren’t _entirely_ empty, they weren't furnished with anything that he was looking for  — _especially_ not the leftovers. He could easily make due with that of an apple or a pre-packaged surimi snack that Ignis had stored from his portable pantry, but none of it sounded as appetizing as that whitefish soup did. Defeatedly dropping his forehead down onto the chilled glass of one of the shelves, Noctis closed his eyes and trilled his whine with a plangent hum. The mere thought of sipping on that soup had made his stomach rumble, though whether or not it was out of hunger or revulsion, he wasn’t sure  — the beer’s effects had amplified since coming back to the suite, and a small part of him wanted to dilute it with food just lessen the “tipsiness”.

He wasn’t sure if he was enjoying it or not, after all. All it made him do was _think…_

And damnit, if he couldn’t stop fucking **thinking**.

 _Water,_ he thought, Adam’s apple bobbing as he forced a swallow. _I just need water. Then I’ll go to —_

But then he heard it.

It was soft, of course, almost quiet enough to be overlooked completely, but the mewl that punctuated an informal sigh inadvertently drew his attention directly back to the painted wood of the bathroom door while wearing the same expression that he had the first time around. Algid plumes spiraled from the open refrigerator and diffused against the side of his face, the chilling sensation subduing the heat that suddenly flared in his cheeks as he held his breath to concentrate on _whatever_ that was…

He _had_ heard it. Right?

With knitted brows, the Prince slowly closed the refrigerator’s doors and gradually slinked across the length of the kitchen, taking care to cushion each deliberate footfall to the best of his ability in order to eliminate even the most subtle of distractions that could potentially risk him missing another pitch.

 _Was_ **_that_ ** _what it was…? Her_ **_voice_ ** _?_

_No._

_No, that’s just stupid._

Despite the deterring denials, Noctis found himself (once again) tacitly stationed in front of the bathroom door, his ear drawn close to the wood as his hands extended to find purchase against the jamb. Like before, he couldn’t perceive anything outside of the spewing spigot; the slate of the bathroom’s tile working zealously to parrot the drumming by literally drowning out _every_ other nearby sound, including the disconcerting mayhem of his own thoughts. Growing frustrated by the deprival, the Prince finally took to pressing the side of his face against the door, the aperture of his ear fully molding against it to better apprehend the sonority, but still, he heard _nothing_ outside of the tap…

Until he finally did.

… And clear as day.

With a clenched jaw, Noctis cast a glance at Ignis from over his shoulder, searching the strategist’s content, peaceful expression for any indication that he’d stirred at the sound, though nothing about his position had determined that he had. Not like the Prince had expected him to, of course, but _anyone_ within a ten-foot radius could have picked up on that… It wasn’t as quiet as the last one had been, and judging by the tremulous keen of it, it’d been… _accidental, maybe?_

Almost as if it’d managed to slip through the cracks of a concrete resolve to keep quiet.

And when he heard it _again_ , his knuckles tightened into fists — forehead pressing against the painted wood of the bathroom door before heaving out an audible, yet shaky exhale as blood thundered directly to his groin from the luscious, honeyed purrs that lewdly poured from the other side…

 _She’s doing it… She’s really doing it… Godsdamn, she’s — no... _Noctis closed his eyes, jaw clenching as he rolled his tongue against his palate before giving a firm, adamant shake of his head.  

This was wrong. _Gods,_ was it wrong… How impolite could he be? This was a private, intimate moment that he had no right to listen in on, but despite the respectable obligation to withdraw, he couldn’t find the willpower to pull himself away.  

So when another whimper reached his ears, the Prince released a heedless, throaty groan into the living room — teeth coming together in a tight clench as his board shorts rapidly strained against the swelling cock beneath them. Silently, he cursed himself, gaze dropping to bare witness to the way that he bulged against the velcro folds before quickly shutting his eyes and parting his lips for a slow, deep intake of breath.

_Don’t do it..._

… But he had to.

For fuck’s sake, he had to.

Unfisting his right hand, Noctis dropped it down to his side, allowing his fingers to ghost over the fabric of his shorts before curling them around the rigid girth of himself and squeezing gently in rhythm to the silken punctuation of her muffled hums on the other side of the door, the applied pressure a satiating relief to the swelling encumbrance of her that ultimately seized his train of thought ever since the Reaptertails.

Even before the beers, he thought about doing this… Really, he had. After seeing the way that she looked at him out on the beach, he tousled with the fantasy of seeing her look so distraught and ruined under much different circumstances — ones where her tangled, unkempt hair, bleeding makeup, perpetual tears and strident cries were sourced from his own debased carnality rather than the ruthless savagery of an Eos varmint.

 _How fucked up was he to think like that?_ He hardly even _knew_ her. While they’d only ever interacted in high school, that didn’t mean anything; as far as he was concerned, they were nothing more than strangers. They knew _of_ each other through the Amicitia siblings, of course, but after the end of their communal history course back then, contact was never made again.

And he had his reasons.

But after seeing just how much that she’d changed after picking her and Iris up from Cape Caem the day before, however, the Crown Prince _quickly_ began to reassess the association.

In more ways than just one, thanks to the liquid courage.

Such a thought had quickly brought him back to the present, where he still stood with his forehead firmly pressed against the wood of the bathroom door while his eyes fluttered in submission, right hand still clutching at the turgid outline of his cock beneath his board shorts as (Y/N)’s insatiable mewls racily escalated in frequency.

_Godsdamnit, she sounds so... fucking... p r e t t y..._

Beneath the pressure of his forehead, the wood suddenly creaked in protest.

And just like that, it was over. Within seconds, the tap had been turned off on the other side of the door and silence befell the Prince as he held his breath in anticipation for what she’d do next. He heard the water slosh around inside of the tub as she climbed out of it, and he seized that opportunity to take several steps backward in order to compose himself — taking to pinching the skin along his arms to draw his attention away from the ache between his legs as well as the insatiable, inebriated urge to kick down the bathroom door before she had a chance to dress herself…

He hadn’t realized that he’d been shaking, body damp with a sheen of sweat that stemmed from how eccentric and bizarre the entire situation had been.

Why had he let himself get so carried away…? Why couldn’t he have just kept walking? Gone to bed like he had originally planned before dragging himself away to sleep off the drunkenness that made his eardrums pulse and his mind race?

But why was he also faced with the ravenous need to wait outside of the bathroom for her...? To let her see him standing there _just_ so he could perceive the look of horror that’d claim her expression at the daunting fear of being overheard?

_Mmmn. Let’s see your reaction…_

He’d settled in a spot on the other side of the bathroom door, shoulder finding purchase against the textured drywall before crossing his arms against his chest…

… and waiting.

* * *

_"Done already?”_

_“I’m sorry?”_

_He motioned his head toward that of the bathroom. “Your bath,” he added simply. “Prompto mentioned that you were taking one before he went to bed.”_

_“Oh! Um… Felt like I was in there forever. The tub’s pretty neat, actually. I was so comfortable that I think I fell asleep, at one point…”_

_The Prince responded by arching a single eyebrow. “Yeah?”_

_“Yeah. Have you, uh… Have you been here for long? Wasn’t expecting you guys back until at least two o’clock, when the bar closed.”_

_He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he stood in silence - pressuring gaze fixed wholly on your face and the wet, stringy hair that framed it. “Not long,” he admitted simply. “Ten minutes. Gladio and Iris are still out. I just got tired.”_

_“You should get some sleep. I plan on waking up early to help Ignis with breakfast in the morning… If you don’t wake up in time to join, you’ll miss out on the pancakes.”_

_“It’s hard to say no to pancakes,” the Prince jested lowly. “I’ll try to make it.”_

_“Hey… I’ve been meaning to thank you. You guys were gone when I first woke up and I didn’t get the chance to then, so… thank you. For helping me. Earlier.”_

_For a brief, fleeting moment, Noctis’ eyes softened. His expression transitioned into one of appreciation, of honor - his flickering irises depicting an uncertainty on how to welcome the accolade without being substandard about it, though ultimately deciding that a curt nod was sufficient enough. “Yeah. No problem.”_

_“Really… You saved my life. I can’t thank you enough.”_

_“Really,” he husked. “It’s no problem. I didn’t mind.”_

_“Well… G’night. See you for breakfast.”_

_“‘Night."_

* * *

 He chuckled darkly when he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, the side of his head coming to rest against that of the wall as his hooded eyes slowly drifted closed, and when he spoke, he spoke low — voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“Hopefully your bed helps you relax more than the bathtub did…”

Such a statement had his tongue drawing the swell of his lower-lip into his mouth, teeth conscientiously nibbling at piece of frayed skin as he wickedly weighed his options. Had this been a porno, he’d have taken the stairs two at a time to pursue her. However, given that multiple people slept inside of the suite with two more due back at any given minute, physically engaging her wouldn’t be an option. Hell, it wasn’t even an option _now…_ It was a fantasy, and if he was being completely honest with himself, it’d likely stay that way.

 _No… It_ **_had_ ** _to._

**_Period._ **

The Prince pushed out a sigh, dragging a calloused palm down the length of his face before shifting his glassy, burnished stare toward the darkened doorway of the nearby bathroom. Steam still billowed from the humid confines, sluggishly disappearing into the air current of the living room’s ventilation system and sparking him with an idea that made him lunge suddenly from his position against the drywall to retreat into the chamber, back quickly connecting with the perspiring wood on the other side before nudging it closed and swiftly securing the lock.

Just because he couldn’t _act_ …

… didn’t mean that he couldn’t _imagine._

Immediately, Noctis hooked his thumbs into the waistline of his board shorts, the appendages curling into the fabric enough to drag it past the ridge of his hips and down to his thighs, where the thick, meaty weight of his cock sprung from the impediment and jutted proudly into the obscure darkness of the unlit bathroom. The mugginess from her bath clung to his flesh like a scent, reminding him of what she’d been doing during it just _minutes_ earlier…

_What had she been thinking about?_

_Fuck_ , what he wouldn’t give to know…

The Prince released a grunt at the thought, spit-slick fingers descending to fully encompass his girth before dropping his head back against the bathroom door as he slowly, fervidly began to pump his fist along his length.

 _What were you fucking thinking about…_ He thought to himself, eyes falling closed as he clenched his teeth, hips inherently bucking forward into his coiling fist as images of her in the bathtub quickly filtered into his mind. He imagined her beneath the water’s surface, legs (that he’d come to know so, _so_ well) splayed wide to make room for trembling fingers as she touched herself, fighting to stifle the keens and whimpers that stemmed from it by clutching her lip between her teeth…

_Don’t... you... dare._

_Don’t you_ **_dare_ ** _be quiet…_

_Not with me…_

Noctis surged against the bathroom door, eyebrows cinched tight as broken groans and fervent pants spewed from his chest as more and more thoughts of what she’d _really_ sound like without having to restrain herself provoked his desperation to just _get off_. He imagined what she’d sound like beneath _him_ … The pulsing cock that he diligently pumped disappearing inside of  _her_ instead of his pistoning fist…

“Fuuuck…” he croaked, eyes prying open only to screw closed again as he edged closer and closer to that coveted release.

_He was there…_

_So quick and easy, he was right…_

_… there…_

Immediately, the Prince lifted the back of his left hand to his mouth and sank his teeth into the ridges of his knuckles as he came; thick ropes of milky-white spurting from the flared, swollen tip of his reddened cock and glossing his fingers with more seed than he’d ever produced in his entire adult life. Every muscle in his body contracted with the sensation, blood darkening the stem of his neck and flushing his cheeks as he concentrated on the pain of his bite over the growl that threatened to surface as he milked himself of every last drop until he hunched over against the door in exhaustion…

_Godsdamnit… What am I even doing…_

If the Six didn’t hate him then, then they certainly did now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASDFGHJKL. Hooooooly Six, can I just say that I had A LOT OF FUN writing from Noctis' POV? For future chapters, I may do more pieces from it, but I'm not entirely sure. I enjoy writing in second person way too much, but we'll just have to seeeee! BUt I hope that everyone enjoyed... THIS.  
> *gestures wildly to the chapter*
> 
> On another note, I'm SUPER SAD TO SAY that I can no longer personally reply to everyone's comment. YES. I KNOW. IT'S FUCKING UPSETTING. The only reason for this is because I find it to be very, VERY time-consuming - sometimes taking me hours to get to everyone. On top of that, it's obnoxiously adding to the story's overall comments. For those who stumble upon it at random, I don't want them to think "omg, 500 comments?! this must be awesome!" only for 250 of those comments to be me and it's not as exciting. Y'know?
> 
> BUUUUUUT. Personal asks that are sent to me via Tumblr WILL ALWAYS be replied to, that will not change. AND I WILL STILL READ EACH AND EVERY COMMENT THAT'S LEFT ON THE STORY, EVEN IF I CAN'T REPLY TO IT. 
> 
> So with that being said, I hope that everyone has ENJOYED this chapter as much as I did! <3


	7. Seabound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Could. Not. Wait. I mean, I totally could have? I could have spent another two weeks writing another ten pages to make this the ultimate chapter of 15,000+ words, but that's... too much, I think? I don't want to blow through the story THAT quickly, so I settled on an appropriate stopping point. It's been a MONTH since my last update, after all! I gotta dish out something! This release came a lot sooner than I had anticipated (and declared), but for good reason.
> 
> As a forewarning, this chapter doesn't have a whole hell of a lot of progression. Don't get me wrong, it has... things. _Delightful things_. ASDFGHJKL.  
>  ( ~~I didn't listen to the NieR: Automata soundtrack while writing this, what are you talking about?~~ )
> 
> Please enjoy! ❤

“Whoa, whoa… Wait a minute…” Prompto had hoisted himself up onto the breakfast bar before loosely locking his ankles, body lounged back just enough to support his weight with an outstretched arm while his other hand lifted to idly sift through the golden, dampened tresses that lay lax and limp against his ears and forehead from his earlier shower. Images of Ignis’ prior words played against his retinas and claimed his concentration in it’s entirety as he dropped his glinting, unfocused gaze to that of the kitchen floor, tiers inadvertently parting for several moments before he blinked once and angled his chin to glance back over at the boastful strategist. “Are you saying… I mean, _really_ saying… that the floor is see-through? _Really_? The _entire_ floor?”

Ignis gave a cursory nod, mouth brushing against the lip of his Ebony can as he spoke his response. “Yes. Well, not the _entire_ floor, per se… I’d reckon that the quarters are what contains the glass casement, though I can’t be certain. The brochure depicted but a small photo.”

“Do you still have it?”

Reaching into the back pocket of his board shorts, Ignis clutched at the single pamphlet before withdrawing it from it’s confines and extending it to Prompto, who tore it from his grasp before prying open the pages and skimming the pictures with his index finger before squinting at the one that displayed the palatial sailboat that Ignis had spoken of. Though modest in size, it was impressive in structure and capacity — the outer deck a spacious enclosure with wide, vinyl seats and table nooks large enough to seat eight while the quarters down inside of the hull portrayed upscale furnishing arrangements as well as a miniature kitchen. Without an engine, the boat would rely solely upon the warm, tropical winds of southern Eos to coast across the sea, but Ignis had assured that the primary responsibility would simply be an occasional adjustment to the sailboat’s tiller to keep from going off-course as well as frequent modification to the sails themselves in order to collude with the wind current. Aside from that, however, maintenance would ultimately be effortless.

And as also promised by the adviser, Prompto finally spotted the rectangular slab of glass along the floorboard in one of the booklet’s photographs and sucked in a breath of air, holding it in for several moments before pushing it out in a shout of excitement. " _YES!_ This is _way_ cool, dude! We get to see the bottom of the ocean!”

“It only displays it in the photograph of the lower quarters. Two meters wide, I would estimate.”

“Well, yeah, that sucks. Would be cool if the bottom of the entire boat was made of glass, but this is good enough. Are we gonna be sleeping down there?”

Ignis shook his head. “No. I’ve rented the craft for the day, but it’s due back at the dock come sundown. The most that we’ll — or _I_ , rather — will be doing below deck is using the kitchenette to prepare for an afternoon meal. As nice as it may be, it’s spacing is insignificant... We’d be lucky to fit four of us down there, let alone all six.”

“Really? It’s that small?” Prompto glanced back down at the glossy page of the brochure, eyes narrowing on a panoramic photograph of the sailboat’s interior before descending further to peruse a descriptions paragraph of everything that it had been equipped with, including amplitude. “Well,” he quietly mumbled, head cocking passably to one side. “Both of the couches can pull out into beds? It can sleep four, at a maximum.”

“Which is exactly why we aren’t crashing in it,” Gladio interjected, ocher spheres slowly lifting from his newspaper to shift over toward the flaxen gunner, who met his gaze with a dissatisfied curl of his upper-lip. “Why do you want to sleep down there, anyway? We’d be packed like sardines.”

“The  _fish_ , dude! _The fish_! Do you know how cool it’d be to fall asleep to the glow of a barrelfish? Best. Nightlight. Ever.”

Gladio looked amused. “You can sleep out on the beach after we get back. Got a wool blanket in the trunk of the car that you can take with you…”

“And risk sand in my pants?” Prompto scoffed, folding the brochure back into its initial rectangle before heaving out a sigh and sliding from the countertop. “Maybe some other time. Even if we don’t sleep on the boat, though, the whole thing will still be cool. What are we gonna do on it, anyhow? Where are we gonna go?”

“I was thinking the western expanse of Duscae,” Ignis explained, body turning just enough to direct a pointed index finger out of the kitchen window and toward the bluffs, cliffs and grassy peaks of the Vannath Coast. “I’ve read that it’s breathtaking. Teeming with all sorts of outlandish life and foliage, in fact. You should certainly pack your camera for it, Prompto.”

“What about the fish?” Clad in nothing but a pair of slate board shorts, Noctis suddenly emerged from the communal bathroom in a plume of sinuous steam as he dragged a towel back and forth across his mess of wet hair, cerulean gaze peering through the still-dripping strands of his dark bangs to watch Ignis expectantly.

The adviser craned an eyebrow in response. “What about them?”

“Are they ‘outlandish’, too? Think I could catch any?”

“I would imagine so. Bring your rod and tacklebox, in any case. The southwestern waters don’t have any trevally or grouper like Galdin does, so you’ll have to experiment with your lures. If I’m not mistaken…” Ignis trailed off, taking several strides over toward Prompto before retrieving the brochure from his grasp and sifting through the polished pages in order to locate one in particular. “Ah, yes. Here it is. It appears as though most of the marine inhabitants are quite substantial in size... Not just the fish, but the reef life, as well. We must be mindful about swimming in shallow waters...”

“How big are we talking, though?” Noctis questioned excitedly, running the towel along the length of both of his arms before hooking it over the swell of a bare, dampened shoulder. “Seventy pounds? Eighty?”

“I’m uncertain. There’ll be plenty of time to find out, however. We’ll be out there all day.”

“Are we sleeping on the boat, too?”

“No!” Prompto quickly griped, arms crossing against his chest as he tossed his head back to blow at a stray lock of hair. “Not enough room. Which sucks, because how cool would it be to watch the barrelfish through the glass at night?”

The Prince’s eyes widened. “Through the… glass? What do you mean? Is the _floor_ made of glass or something?”

“Yeah, dude!”

“No way!”

“ _Yes_ , dude!”

“Noct,” Ignis quietly interrupted. “Why don’t the two of you pay a visit to the shop on the beach? Stock up on additional lures and fishing lines before we head out? We leave as soon as everyone is ready.”

With a slow, deliberate blink, the Crown Prince craned his chin to glance over toward the stairwell before pulling his eyebrows together in curiosity. “They’re back?”

“They are,” the strategist affirmed. “They returned from their massage after you stepped into the shower.”

“Do they know?”

“Not everything,” came Gladio, gaze once again dragging from the inky pages of his newspaper to regard Noctis coolly. “They suspect that we’ll be using the paddle boats that are beached down by the dock, but nothing more. We’d like to keep it that way. The sailboat itself would be a nice surprise for them…” His gaze hardened, jaw visibly tightening before he continued. “If you two haven’t already tipped them off to it with how _loud_ you’re being about the damn floor, that is.”

Right as Prompto’s expression began to twist into one of complete and total unease, Ignis chimed in assuredly. “I doubt that they know... We didn’t admit to much after they came back inside. After we sent them upstairs to change, they took their time in doing so; too engaged in their own conversation to give the plan a second thought. Once they _do_ come back down, however, we  _really_ must be off… I’ve only managed to rent the sailboat for several hours, and we’re almost at midday. I’d like to take full advantage.”

“Should we just meet you down at the dock after the shop, then?” Noctis inquired, fingers curling into the towel that draped over his shoulder before slowly tugging it off and launching it into the joint bedroom that he shared with Prompto. Ignis looked miffed, though otherwise spoke nothing of the Prince’s disorganization and indifference to cleanliness — instead assenting to his suggestion with a terse nod of his head before Noctis disappeared into the bedroom to properly dress himself for the day ahead.

 

* * *

 

Once you and Iris had returned to the hotel after an hour and a half spent beneath the spellbinding fingers of Galdin’s finest masseurs, the bad blood had dissipated entirely; exasperation and guilt no longer governing your attitude toward the younger Amicitia as the two of you fell back into your usual routine of playful banter and buoyant gossip, though not before profuse apologies were issued in regards to your isolation the night before. Much to your surprise, she’d _really_ felt guilty about leaving you by yourself… And as you’d expected, Iris’ uncertainty about the nature of your situation had driven her to partake in the bar festivities with Gladio and Noctis rather than sitting by your bedside, and because of it, she’d tried a little too hard to keep up with their tolerance by exhibiting a fearless, gallant commitment in finishing off her margaritas faster than the bartender could serve them.

Aside from confiding in Gladio about her irritation towards you and heeding his considerate suggestion to talk it out over a one-on-one activity, her rapid inebriation had prevented her from recalling much else about the night; not even how she’d miraculously managed to find her way back up to the room and into her bed without tripping on the stairs and waking up the entire house. “ _Maybe Noct was nice enough to carry me_ ,” she’d said with a soft sigh. “ _I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. He’s always been so sweet and caring like that..._ ”

If Iris didn’t remember Noctis leaving the bar before they had, it was in your best interest not to clarify it with her; as luck would certainly have it, the mere mention of an interaction with the Crown Prince — without the presence of anyone else — would undeniably rekindle her suspicions of you and render the initial discussion back at the Galdin Spa completely useless. If she wanted to believe that Noctis had carried her to bed, then you’d let her.

Even if doing so made your insides twist with something that you couldn’t quite identify...

However, after the two of you had been ushered upstairs to change into something ‘tolerant to both wind _and_ water’, as Ignis had cleverly worded it, all thoughts and interests concerning the Lucian heir were quickly discarded when Iris vocalized her curiosity about what the strategist’s statement had implied. She’d been quick to suggest the paddleboats that’d been beached on the bank just east of the resort’s parking lot, for the only other watercraft that Galdin offered was the motorized ferry that traveled to and from Altissia. Taking the group’s funding into consideration, six tickets for such an extensive venture was unfeasible; the paddleboats, on the other hand, would be more pragmatic in terms of cost.

It seemed reasonable enough.

Still clad in your initial swimwear, you’d settled on a black, sheer tunic to wear above it alongside a pair of cotton shorts and a set of flatbed sandals that fastened around your ankles while Iris donned herself in that of a thin, chiffon cover-up dress that rested just above her kneecaps with rubber flip-flops. In preparation for a day spent on the water, you’d filled one of Iris’ extra tote bags with a spare towel, SPF sunscreen, cheap sunglasses and an extra set of clothes in case something happened to the ones that you currently wore; having your paddleboat upturned and falling into the water, for example, or having a hole punched into your hull and sinking entirely from a Prompto-induced game of ‘bumper boats’.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t excited. You certainly were, and while part of you wanted to believe that it stemmed from the fact that you’d be in the middle of Galdin’s beautiful, oceanic outlet on a paddleboat with nothing to look at but the thriving marine life beneath you, the other part _knew_ that the company in which you’d be partaking in it with played a vital, almost prominent role in your high spirits. It’d be an entertaining experience, that was for sure… From what you knew about the paddleboats, they seated two; if you were lucky, you’d be able to team up with someone other than Iris. Not that you had anything against the younger Amicitia, but throughout the course of dressing herself for the occasion, she’d idly complained on not wanting to exhaust herself from pedalling the boat too hard...

In other words, she probably wouldn’t pedal at all.

When it came to relaxation, the last thing that Iris wanted to do was ‘work’; even if it meant forfeiting the labor and issuing it to someone else. Nothing about that sounded _fun_ , and if you could help it, you’d enlist the company of someone else before she had a chance to claim you as her partner.

_If she’s not too busy latching onto Noctis, that is… In which case, that’d save me the trouble. Win/win, right?_

After finalizing your preparations and descending the staircase into the lower quarters to join up with the others, you were surprised to find that only Ignis and Gladio stood in living room, tote bags of their own settled at their feet as they spoke briefly of the day’s later forecasts. “Where’s Noct? And Prompto?” Iris inquired from your side, chin angling from left to right as she surveyed the expanse of the area with knitted brows before slowly lifting one in the direction of her older brother. The sadness in her voice was unmistakable. “Are they not coming?”

“They’re picking up a few things from the shop,” Gladio replied. The inked, hulking stems of his arms crossed loosely against his bare chest as he drew his attention away from Ignis to regard his sister, the corner of his mouth eventually pulling back into a crooked grin when they slowly drifted over to settle on you. “You look shocked, (Y/N).”

Unbeknownst to you, you’d been staring; eyes wide and dry as they traced every dip, curve and groove of the older Amicitia’s contoured upper-body. His lack of attire hadn’t necessarily come as a surprise... You were about to be out on the water, after all. You just... hadn’t expected it _prior_ to going outside? Not like you were complaining, of course…

Clearly.

“What?” You blinked once after he’d addressed you, gaze slowly lifting to meet his domineering stare. “Me? Oh, no. I’m fine.”

“Mn.”

Ignis cleared his throat, fingers lifting to press into the flesh of the bodyguard’s arm before nudging him backward in order to take a preeminent step forward. “We’re to meet them at the dock as soon as you two are ready,” he quietly informed. “Seeing that you are, we’d best set off; we’ve only a few hours to enjoy the sunlight.”

Inadvertently, you made a face; it’d only been twelve o’clock. On the coast, the sun didn’t crest the horizon until close to seven, but even then, it’d take a solid half-hour for darkness to fall — eight hours of daylight was more than enough time to enjoy a paddleboat, but Ignis’ tone of voice as he spoke of it had concerned you. “What do you mean?”

A moment of silence had passed before he pushed out an exhale. “There’s a storm blowing in from the southwest… I don’t think that it’d reach Galdin, of course, but it’s bound to hit Duscae. The most that we’ll get are clouds, I imagine. Possibly even some wind. We shouldn’t be on the water for _that_ long, however, so there’s a strong possibility that we won’t witness any of it. I don’t want to take any chances, though; I’d rather us enjoy the sunlight while we can…” He trailed off for but a moment to turn his head toward Gladio, who met his gaze with that of reassuring nod; whatever doubt that Ignis had about risking a potential storm had dissipated entirely from it, for the eager glint that caught the pale green of his irises had symbolized nothing but a raw, newfound sense of excitement. “Regardless, let us be off; we’ve a very, _very_ busy day ahead of us.”

After the four of you had exited the hotel with your bags in tow and took a left toward Galdin’s pier rather than a right towards the parking lot, you immediately became suspicious; hadn’t the paddleboats been beached along the shoreline in the _opposite_ direction?

Where was everyone going?

Rather than voicing your apprehension, however, you merely followed suit alongside Iris — who’d looked just as dumbfounded as you had as she glanced uncertainly over her shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the sandy patch of beach in the distance that retained the paddleboats before whipping her head around to look at you with drawn brows. “ _Where are we going?_ ” She mouthed. “ _The boats are back the other way?_ ”

You reconsidered the possibility of taking the ferry to Altissia; why else would you be heading for the pier? Not that you had an issue with paying a visit to the nation of Accordo, but the costs that tied to such an expedition was enough to make your stomach churn… Though the boys may have carried a substantial amount of gil from partaking in bounties and selling spare accessories throughout their trip across Lucis, they were smart enough not to drop the bulk of it on tickets to travel across the ocean for the sake of entertainment — especially not when they’d already spent a fair amount for their current accommodations. Part of you wanted to vocalize your unease about the expense; possibly even talk Ignis into getting his money back for the tickets so you really _could_ take the paddleboats out into the ocean for the day rather than traveling for several hours just to get to Altissia.

Dressed like _beach bums_ , no less…

Oh, Gods. _What an awful idea._ You _had_ to say something before you got to the ferry… They may have intended for it to be a surprise, but there were dozens of other activities right here in Galdin Quay that you could do for _less_.

You could only hope that Ignis wouldn’t find your objection to be disrespectful. The more that you contemplated reaching out to stop him from walking further, however, the more you imagined his facial expression hardening with indignation once you confessed your distress.

But… Surely, he’d understand the point in question. _Right?_

He  _had_ to.

When you finally managed to muster up enough courage to reach forward with splayed fingers to clutch at the back of his shirt, a sudden gasp from Iris had you quickly drawing it back to your side. After snapping your head in her direction, lips parted in preparation for a silent, incredulous ‘ _what?!’,_ you quickly found that she’d been shocked by something at the end of the pier rather than your determination to stop Ignis,eyes blown wide with surprise as she slowly began to grin through the sudden slack in her jaw. “Is… Is _that_ …?”

Puzzled, you turned your head to follow her gaze, and —

“Holy  _Six..._ ”

Tied off to several cleats at the end of the pier was a _sailboat_ , prodigious in both size and style, with the term ‘S. S. Odin’ emblazoned in golden script along the painted wood of the starboard bow. Had you not been overwhelmed by the sheer excitement of getting to spend the day on it, you’d have surely turned to Ignis to inquire about how much he’d paid to rent it out; ever since the strategist admitted to a fondness of saving gil prior to departing Caem the morning before, effusive expenses had made you cringe. Admittedly, it had even bothered you when he took to restocking the hotel’s refrigerator with fresh produce — something that could have _easily_ cost him hundreds, possibly _thousands_ of gil, given the selections.

Then again, this was a _vacation —_ not just for you and Iris, but for the boys, as well. If they wanted to spend their money on produce, they could. If they wanted to spend their money on the hotel’s deluxe suite, they could. If they wanted to spend their money on the moon, the stars and the sky, _they could._ It certainly wasn’t any of your business, and you’d do well in considering it as such; nitpicking and expressing concern about the group’s finances was inappropriate for such an occasion, and it’d _undoubtedly_ be an offense to Ignis, now that you thought about it…

He wasn’t chosen to be the Crown Prince’s royal adviser arbitrarily, as you’d already told yourself once before; Ignis was more than qualified to handle the likes of the group’s finances, and any implication of being negligent in doing so wasn’t bound to sit well with him...

As considerate of a person as you may have been, you needed to learn how to  _accept_ rather than object  — starting immediately.

“Guys!” Prompto suddenly shouted from the central deck, one hand circling the side of his mouth while the other waved frantically beneath the gaudy rays of the overhead sun. “What are you waiting for? Let’s _go!_ Time’s-a-wastin’!”

While rubber buoys had been knotted along the length of the hull to keep the dock from carving into the boat’s pristine framework, the likes of a ladder hadn’t been dropped to allow passenger access — not only because it hadn’t, in fact, been _equipped_ with one, but because the wind from the impending storm had made the oncoming waves more hefty and cumbersome than usual, despite the lack of looming evidence that one was even on its way.  With the help of Gladio and Ignis, however, you and Iris had been individually lifted and hoisted close enough to the boat’s edge to reach up and grasp at the extended hands of both Noctis and Prompto in order to be pulled over the railing and safely onto the deck.

Once you were released from their clutch and had found purchase against the polished wood, however, a dense wave rolled against the sailboat’s hull and robbed you of your balance — body careening unsteadily to the left before a set of thick, calloused hands quickly curled around your upper-arm and righted you with a jerk before your shoulder pressed flush against something hard, warm and cotton-clad.

“You guys better hurry up and get on! If we don’t move soon, the water’s gonna push us onto the pier!” Prompto called out from further down the deck, and as soon as he did, your cheeks flared with a disconcerted heat; opening your eyes that you didn’t even know that you’d closed, your gaze was quickly met with the black, downy fabric of the chest that you were pressed against — confirming that it _hadn’t_ , in fact, been Prompto that had caught you — but the startling realization of who  _had_ was enough to make your heart-rate spike unsettlingly.

“Easy there...” He soothed from your side, the rich timbre of his voice rumbling from within his chest and reverberating directly into yours. “Can’t have you going overboard.”

The close proximity _alone_ had rapidly acted as a mental opiate, inducing an irrefutable, staggering concupiscence for the Crown Prince that you had to physically withdraw yourself to break free of it. “Thank you,” you quickly countered, legs lumbering backwards as your fingers lifted to inherently tuck a lock of hair behind the crook of your ear. Had it not been for the heat that seared your cheeks, you’d have met his gaze while you spoke to seem more genuine; given the pace of your pulse from what just happened, however, seeing his eyes would have done nothing to benefit your situation…

Whatever it was.

All you knew was that as soon as he touched you, something... _snapped_ ; popped back like a rubber band and shattered your resolve to be mindful of his presence for the sake of Iris’ feelings. In just a matter of moments, images of what you’d undergone the night before — everything from what happened on the beach to how he’d acted outside of the bathroom door — had completely impaired your empathies and _reminded_ you of just… how… _needy…_ you had been for him.

 _Gods, if only he knew_.

This… was going to be difficult. Not only did you make yourself promise to keep your mouth _and_ your interests in check as far as the Crown Prince was concerned, you had also consented to keeping your distance; Iris was the priority here. The last thing that you wanted to do was upset her. However, as committed as you may have been in repeating these deliberations to yourself like a damned mantra, you still tousled with the idea of just… letting them go, _especially_ after what had just happened. If being close to Noctis triggered _this_ kind of aphrodisia, resisting the effects would be hopeless. For Etro’s sake, _it already was_ if you were contemplating dereliction from your promises.

… Briefly, you wondered if it’d all been in your head. The ‘chemistry’, the looks, the suspicion of ulterior motives… What if all of it was sorely one-sided? It was easy to mistake a _look_ , after all; the depth of one’s stare could literally mean anything.

The thought made your chest ache.

_Surely not, though… Right? There’s no possible way that I’m misreading any of this..._

“You alright?”

Blinking out of your reverie, you finally lifted your chin to meet the Prince’s gaze — the blood that had drained from your cheeks rapidly returning when the dazzling blue of his irises narrowed slightly upon first noticing the worry that crinkled your brow. He awaited your answer in silence, expression detached and coldly stoic. Was the disillusionment of your thoughts reflected in your expression?

You stretched and relaxed your facial muscles with a scrunch of your nose before allowing it to soften in concern. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

Noctis didn’t speak right away. He dedicated several long, painstaking moments in watching your face; switching from one of your eyes to the other before dropping his gaze to slowly trail it along the length of your nose, the span of your mouth. If you weren’t red enough before, you certainly were now;  _what was he doing,_ looking at you like this? Had you any sense, you’d have turned on your heel and retreated from the situation to prevent any further embarrassment, but for some reason, you were _rooted;_ unable to withdraw yourself away from his scrutiny even if you wanted to.

You thought back to your determination out on the beach the day before, when you’d stripped yourself of your cover-up while holding the Crown Prince’s invigorating stare; you’d told yourself that if he wanted to look, you’d give him something to look at. Idly, you contemplated how you could incorporate that method into this situation, as well… But as soon as he took a single step forward, however, the thought disintegrated.

_What is he —?_

He took another…

… and then another.

Your heart lurched. You could feel that electricity again; an invisible lure that seized every coherent thought and shamelessly directed them toward _him_. He was a beacon for your attention, and when he finally slowed a staggering three feet away from you only to lean forward an additional nine inches, the very presence of him was so overwhelming that your eyes fluttered.  

You watched the corner of his mouth twitch. “You haven’t looked at me all morning,” he mumbled, the grating roll of his voice making you visibly shudder. “I couldn’t help but notice.”

 _Get it together. Get it together. Get it to- **f**_ ** _ucking_ ** _-gether. What was even happening right now?_

Pushing out a slow, careful exhale through your nostrils, you focused on your demeanor; though your insides were the aftermath of a trainwreck, you couldn’t let him think that he affected you as gravely as one. Pressing the flat of your tongue against your palate, you swallowed. When you spoke, you needed to do so clearly; your voice had to be smooth, fluid and confident, and fortunately for you, it certainly was. “I’m looking at you right now.”

He craned a single eyebrow, lips parting ever slightly to properly display the smirk that slowly pulled against the corners of his mouth — and _fuck_ , if it didn’t make heat coil deep within your lower abdomen. Unbeknownst to you, you were quick to wear the pruriency; facial expression tightening against the onslaught of heat that seared your cheeks as well as the sudden tremble that claimed both of your hands, but you did your best to fight through it.

 _What was this…? Why was this affecting you_ **_so badly?_ **

Noctis pushed out a low, breathy chuckle as he stared down the bridge of his nose at you, brows slowly pulling together before he cocked his head curiously to one side and drew himself even _closer_. “(Y/N)...” He spoke your name carefully, blinking once before narrowing his gaze on the way that you parted your lips for the release of a soft, shaky breath. The corner of his mouth twitched again, though when he continued, he did so in a whisper; a gruff, low, _insatiable_ whisper. “Do I make you nervous?”

Immediately, your lips rolled together to stifle a whimper, eyes fluttering closed as white-hot heat clutched at your insides and made you physically _ache_ for release from whatever covetous transfixion that he had you in; _was that what it was_ ? It had to be. How else could it be explained? You’d done well to avoid his smoldering stare throughout the course of the morning, and for good reason; you still couldn’t shake the suspicion that he’d _heard_ you the night before, and the last thing that you wanted was to see that daunting confirmation in his eyes, but _now?_ Worrying what he may or may not have heard was the _last_ thing on your mind, especially when he had so brazenly invaded your personal space and watched you counter his immediacy with satyric consent; you were putty in his hands… and he knew it.

Officially.

You didn’t know what to even think about the current situation; you didn’t know _what_ was happening, _why_ it was happening or _how_ it’d come to happen, but _it was happening — _and worst of all, you failed in showing defiance like you had originally planned. It was almost... as if you couldn’t? Not that you wanted to, necessarily, but in the midst of all of… _this…_ you couldn’t find the strength to even consider it. It was as if every licentious thought that you’d ever had of the Crown Prince was multiplied...

_Why...?_

“Prompto! Noctis! Some assistance with the sails, please?” Ignis suddenly shouted from the boat’s stern, and with a sly, final smile, Noctis turned his back to you and dexterously cantered across the deck before taking up residence at the sharpshooter’s side to tagteam untying the mast’s mainsail — leaving you hot, breathless and distinctly… normal.

The electricity... had _disappeared?_

Before the confusion had an opportunity to truly sink in, however, Iris was at your side, small hands circling one of your arms to tug you excitedly towards the front of the boat with an upbeat bounce to her step while you fought against every fiber in your being from turning your head and risking a glance back behind you.

“We’re getting ready to set sail,” the younger Amicitia declared with a squeak, drawing your attention away from the consideration and instead toward the jubilation in her tone of her voice; had she not seen what had happened?

_Did anyone see what had happened?_

 

Though Galdin’s sky was a clear, cloudless expanse of cyan and turquoise, an unforeseen storm was coming…

  
… in more ways than just one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT THE BIG KABOOM LIKE WE WERE ALL HOPING FOR, OF COURSE, BUT IT'S SOMETHING! Big, BIG plans are in store for the next chapter -- (which won't take me a month to write, hopefully)! Shout-out to my incredible beta, Peggy, for proofing (and praising!) everything prior to posting!
> 
> I've got plans, guys. I'VE. GOT. PLANS.  
> For those who've been kind and patient throughout this entire process, T H A N K Y O U. The amount of encouraging messages that I've received on Tumblr is the ONLY reason why this is being released right now; having that kind of support works wonders on a person's motivation. 
> 
> You guys are the BEST.


	8. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY. GOD. Guys... It's been a while. IT HAS BEEN A WHILE. Woooowzuh. 
> 
> First and foremost, I am super sorry that it's taken me since freakin' MARCH to post an update. A lot of people were led to believe that I'd abandoned the story, ( ~~how dare ya'll, by the way?~~ ), but rest assured, I certainly haven't! Got tied up in quite a few things that limited my time and my energy, and to be honest, writer's block had temporarily become my nemesis, but alas, I emerged victorious.
> 
> Not going to lie to you guys, though... I struggled with this chapter. I apologize in advance if anything seems confusing or out of place; it took me until about page 3 to find my groove. I also realize that I REALLY got carried away with the amount of detail that I put into things that probably didn't deserve it, but that's just the way my mind works. I like detail, and detail likes me. We have a love/hate relationship that's PROBABLY toxic, but I love it too much to care. 
> 
> ANYWAY! Without further ado...  
> Enjoy.

" _Prompto! Do a gainer!”_

“Okay! Wait... Which one is that again?” The gunner lifted a finger to idly scratch at his temple, flaxen brows pulling together in concentration as he squinted up toward the crouching Prince that had found purchase atop the sailboat’s horizontal mast. It’d only been a few moments since he’d warped onto the rostrum from the water; for the past ten minutes, he and Prompto had taken turns skillfully launching themselves from the starboard deck and into the ocean with a variety of tricks, flips and jumps just to earn commending applauds and approving whistles from those interested enough to watch the contention.

Which, of course, had been everyone except for _you._

“ _It’s the backflip!”_ Noctis shouted down in response. “ _Your feet have to hit the water first! If they don’t, it doesn’t count!”_

“You know what? I bet I can do a _double_!”

“ _Bet you can’t!”_

“You guys are _so_ silly,” Iris commented with a giggle, her small hands clutched together atop her stomach as she lounged back across a beach towel at your side. Unlike her, you’d taken to laying on your stomach, arms crossed loosely together as you rested your cheek on top of them to gaze off in the opposite direction of everyone, towards the sea. It’d been close to forty-five minutes since the boat had pulled away from Galdin Quay, and the fact that the resort had already disappeared on the other side of the craggy Vannath coast had almost been enough to trouble you; Ignis had forewarned of high winds, of course, but they weren’t supposed to be _that_ high, were they? It was a wonder that the boat’s mainsail was still attached to the mast with how chronic the gusts were… Certainly explained the distance traveled, though. According to Ignis, the original plan was to only travel one nautical mile west of Galdin Quay before turning around and heading back before the storm was due to hit Duscae.

After startlingly learning that the boat hadn’t traveled one, but _two_ miles west of Galdin Quay with the help of the grueling wind current, the strategist had ultimately decided that anchoring off in the coast’s shallow waters was the best course of action until it settled down enough to be able to turn around and head back for the pier.

“ _We’ve got plenty of time to dally about_ ,” he’d confidently assured. “ _In fact, we’re ahead of our intended schedule._ ”

“Hey, (Y/N),” Prompto suddenly addressed, his tone oozing with that usual, habitual cordiality that almost made you feel guilty for being such a killjoy and intentionally ignoring he and Noctis’ jumping rivalry since dropping anchor. “You gonna watch this? It’ll be epic! I need as many witnesses as I can get!”

Your eyes drifted closed with a deep, steady inhale, and despite the warmth of the midday sun, an entirely different heat descended upon the span of your back from a nocuous set of cerulean irises; Prompto’s words had undoubtedly attracted the Prince’s attention, and just like the gunner, he’d shifted his gaze to watch you expectantly as you tousled with the right words to say. Of course you wanted to watch! Water sports had never particularly fascinated you, granted, but it’d been obvious that Prompto wanted nothing more than for you to watch along with everyone else, and you knew that as soon as you voiced your agreement to his request, his pacified smile would almost be enough to make you question why you’d even neglected to participate in the first place...

_Almost._

“I think she’s too busy sunbathing to watch you fall into the water face-first, bud,” Gladio voiced from somewhere behind you, and shortly afterward, a snort of amusement sounded from up in the sails as a response; was he _laughing?_ At who?

Before the sharpshooter had a chance to retaliate to the impish pessimism of his friends, however, you pushed yourself up from your beach towel and swung your legs around to comfortably situate yourself into a sitting position before angling your chin up to meet Prompto’s bright, inquisitive gaze. “Hell yeah, I’m gonna watch!” You declared with a smile, and just like you’d expected, he grinned so wide that the pale blue of his irises disappeared beneath the glutted skin of his eyelids.

" _Doesn’t mean much_. _He’s still going to fall on his face._ ” Noctis called from above, and the second that you picked up on the resonant timbre of his voice against the trilling whistle of the coast’s winds, you had to clench your jaw to keep from groaning; was it his newfound cockiness that suddenly made you irritated? Or was it the fact that, as of forty-five minutes ago, _everything_ about him had awoken something deep inside of you that you weren’t necessarily sure how to analyze?

Admittedly, ignoring him (and everyone else, for that matter) since leaving Galdin’s pier had certainly helped your disquiet over the situation; it allowed you to seek refuge within your own thoughts in order to try and decipher what in the actual _fuck_ was going on and how you could go about changing it, but still, the Lucian heir’s lingering presence hovered over your spirits like an ominous storm cloud and further pitched you into confusion. You didn’t even have to look at the bastard to physically feel the indecorous effects that he suddenly had on you, and if being within a fifteen-foot radius of him had been this compelling, you could only imagine what actually _looking_ at him would do…

Precisely why you’d been so adamant in ignoring he and Prompto’s jumping contest to begin with.

“Come now, Noct,” Ignis called from the stern. “Where’s your optimism?”

“He’s just trying to psych me out so I’ll get nervous and mess up!” Prompto jeered, his right hand closing into a fist before thumping against his bare chest. “Which, I _won’t_ , by the way!”

“You sure about that?” Gladio questioned with a low, louring chuckle. “You’ve got five people watching you now. The pressure’s on. Just imagine the humiliation once you —”

“Hey.” You curtly interrupted, head turning just enough to be able to cast a cautionary glare at him from over your shoulder. “I’d like to see _you_ get up there and do a double backflip, Gladio. Do you even know how?”

Mistake.

The burnished amber of the shield’s eyes darkened to a muddied bronze, and with a slow drop of his chin, he husked, “I can do a _lot_ more than just a double backflip, babe… Want me to show you sometime?”

“For Shiva's  _sake_ _,_ Gladdy!” Iris interjected with a scoff, painted fingers grasping the temples of her sunglasses and pushing them from her nose to settle on top of her head. Having been exposed to the sun for less than an hour, a tanline from them had already made itself visible around the younger Amicitia’s eyes; you briefly wondered if you’d packed any aloe vera lotion from Caem. “Why do you always have to do that? Comments like that don’t _actually_ work with picking up girls, do they? Because that’s disgusting.”

The moment that Gladio’s eyes drifted from yours to lock incredulously onto Iris’, you whipped your head back around and angled your face back toward the ocean, teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheek in an attempt to draw your thoughts away from yet another one of his innuendos. You’d known Gladio for as long as you’d known Iris; the scope of his importunate sexuality wasn’t foreign or unfamiliar to you, though every time he’d be bold enough to suggest a proposition, you never knew how to react… Seeing as how his younger sister was your best friend, you had to be mindful of your retaliations. Had it been up to you, you’d have mirrored his audacity and challenged him to leap from the very precipice that separated talk from action, but your friendship with Iris took precedence over your carnal attraction to her brother; she’d never forgive you for crossing such a forbidden line, anyway.

It wasn’t like you’d actually _consider_ it, though… You’d seen too much of Gladio’s debauchery over the years to ever take him as a lover, but you certainly couldn’t deny the fact that the Gods broke the mould with his creation; he was an Adonis that deserved to be illustrated on the paperback cover of a romance novel. He was astonishingly, immeasurably, _painfully_ attractive — but not your type. You’d let him carry out his genitive promises within the privacy of your own daydreams, though that was all; physical intimacy could never — _would_ never — happen.  _Fantasizing_ about the royal shield, though…

It was a fulfilling distraction from the presumptuous Prince that still balanced up on the sailboat’s mast, eyes undoubtedly fastened to the back of your head while you silently willed away the blush that dusted your cheeks from his companion’s words.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be such an agonizing trip after all. Having discovered this psychological refuge, the idea of Noctis wouldn’t be nearly as overwhelming as it had been just an hour prior…

Right?

As long as you kept your mind and your eyes off of him and instead on Gladio, it’d be easy. It was only a matter of time before Ignis pulled in the anchor and guided the sailboat back to Galdin, after all; you were looking at two, maybe three more hours at the absolute _most_ before land would bless you with the freedom to get as far away from the Prince as humanly possible. Long enough to regain your bearings, anyway… While you knew that avoiding him for the rest of the trip was impossible (and childish, let’s be honest), you simply needed an opportunity to dissect the situation without the distraction of his proximity.

_Whatever the hell that ‘situation’ may be…_

“Alright, screw it,” Prompto suddenly imparted with a swift clap of hands, the sound of such fisting the collar of your thoughts and impetuously propelling them back to the present; the gunner had grown impatient. “If I don’t make it, Noct and Gladio can make fun of me for the rest of the trip, but if I _do_ make it…” Prompto trailed off, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth as aquamarine irises shifted from one set of curious eyes to the other. “... We get to do karaoke tonight out on the beach.”

 _“What kind of request is that?”_ Noctis called down from the mast in response, and with a hearty chuckle, Prompto erected two of his fingers and pointed them directly up at the Prince.

“Gotta let me finish, man,” he jested with a percipient edge, and with a clenched jaw, Noctis fell silent. “We get to do karaoke tonight out on the beach… with _you_ as the opening headline.”

“ _You’re insane if you think —”_

“And!” Prompto interrupted. “ _I_ get to pick the song.”

From your side, Iris emitted a sharp, unflattering snort before cupping a hand over her mouth and dropping her forehead to her knees, body rocking with a series of suppressed giggles just as the other passengers began to react similarly; Gladio had curled a fist in front of his mouth to shield a grin while Ignis took to adjusting his glasses as a distraction from the comical proposition.

“You should have tread lightly, Noct...” Laughing at a friend’s misfortune was unbecoming of the royal adviser, of course, but the amusement that clipped his tone of voice was sorely apparent.

While you sincerely doubted that Noctis would ever (soberly) sing into a microphone in front of a crowd of people, you couldn’t help but find pleasure in the visual of him embarrassing himself on stage; flushed cheeks, wide eyes and uncomfortable fidgets gracing his regal demeanor as he inharmoniously serenaded a throng of Galdin Quay’s nighttime tourists with whatever terrible song that Prompto had chosen for him. In truth, bearing witness to something so detrimental would be extraordinarily heartening… For once, you’d get to see _him_ capsize. _For once_ , you’d get to see _him_ relinquish his poise and self-assurance, and at this point in time — for your own sanity — you _needed_ to see his hubristic smirk melt from his face like butter on hot concrete. You _needed_ to watch him crack the way that he’d watched you crack…

You wanted Prompto to win… You _needed_ him to win.

“ _Yeah, well,”_ the Prince began with confidence. “ _That’s only if you manage to land it. There’s not a lot of distance from the deck and the water, so the odds of you doing a double backflip are SUPER slim... Karaoke’s definitely not gonna happen, man. You should think of something else_.”

“You know what I _am_  thinkin’?” Prompto pondered aloud, lowering his fingers and tapping them against the curve of his jaw as he slowly turned his body away from Noctis to begin wandering over towards the metallic railing that lined the sailboat’s deck. “I’m thinkin’ about… oh, what’s that one song? It came out in the late nineties. Iris, you would know! It’s about genies, I think.”

“Genies?” Iris replied with wide, bright eyes. “You can’t mean…? Oh, Prompto… You wouldn’t do something like that to Noctis, would you?!”

It was your turn to giggle. The term ‘genie’ was enough of an indicator of what the sharpshooter had in mind, and though you hadn’t actually heard the song in a long, long time, you could still recite the words like an everlasting mantra… _Who couldn’t?_ The pop song was a classic, even for those who’d heard it years after its initial release. As a matter of fact, back when you and Iris were still in pigtails, you spent many nights singing that very song into your brush handles in front of the bathroom mirror, blissfully unaware of the song’s underlying meaning and what it meant in terms of sexuality.  The very idea of Noctis apprehensively singing those same lyrics to a crowd of inebriated onlookers made it downright impossible  _not_ to laugh...

 _This_ … would be _perfect_. Though eminently different in nature, it would certainly suffice as a form of payback for what he’d done to you earlier. To be even more spiteful, you had every intention on taking out your cellphone and secretly recording it, too… Nothing says ‘ _two can play that game_ ’ quite like threatening to distribute an embarrassing video of the Crown Prince of Lucis singing karaoke of a nineties pop favorite simply because he’d lost a bet. As gratifying as the thought of doing so may have been, however, it wasn’t your actual intention; you’d only planned on using the video for ammunition in case he ever decided to pull on your strings again…

Ugh.

Defending yourself against his advances with something as silly as an embarrassing video... Come _on_. Who were you even kidding? Such an insignificant form of blackmail would be _nothing_ to someone like Noctis; his arsenal was far more necrotic than yours. The battle would be lost within seconds, the only shot fired nothing more than the rasp of another generative question...

_‘Do I make you nervous?’_

_Oh, Gods._ Your muscles tensed with the recollection, goosebumps surfacing along the length of your arms as your body began to weakly reenact the heat that speared through your core when he’d first husked the words. You couldn’t even find the strength to _answer_ him, either… You wanted to giggle at his overconfidence and flip your hair over your shoulder in wholehearted disregard, but you physically _couldn’t;_  every part of you had succumbed to him in his entirety, and in that moment, he’d been the sole embodiment of everything that you’d ever hungered for in terms of physical carnality. You’d never experienced _anything_ like it… Since middle school, you’d been familiar with lust and it’s wayward temptations, of course, but _that?_ It hadn’t _just_ been a form of temptation… No. It was something else. Something… metaphysical, unnatural. Otherworldly, even.

If the Six were barbarous enough to impose something so obscene onto an Eos mortal, you’d have fully believed _them_ to be behind something so —

“Holy _shit,_ ” Gladio’s voice suddenly spliced into your musings, your eyes rapidly blinking to focus onto a (now-empty?) starboard deck; Prompto was nowhere to be seen. “He did it. He _actually_ did it… Way to _go_ , bud!”

_Wait, what?!_

Scattered applause erupted from around the sailboat as you hurriedly hauled yourself onto your feet, body rushing over towards the deck’s railing before your outstretched hands found purchase against the heated metal and used it as leverage in order to lean over the side. Down below, amongst a stilling compilation of turquoise ripples directly next to the boat’s hull, was a wadding Prompto; his cheeks were flushed bright red with adrenaline and excitement, and the moment that you peered down at him from over the edge of the railing, he squinted up at you through his golden mass of sodden tresses and chuckled breathlessly. “Did you see that, (Y/N)?! Oh, man… Didn’t think I’d actually be able to land it, but… _I did!_ ”

Your shoulders sagged with immediate disappointment; not only did you completely miss Prompto’s jump, but the fact that you’d heedlessly allowed your thoughts to breach the barrier of a restricted area that you’d tried so hard to stay away from had been the  _sole_ reason as to why. What in the hell happened to your resolve?! As long as you distracted your curiosity with softcore fantasies of the inked powerhouse that continued to applaud from somewhere behind you, you wouldn’t get caught up in any more thoughts of Noctis until you were safely back in Galdin… _Right?_   _That_ had been the plan, one that you had inwardly promised to dedicate yourself to for the sake of reclaiming some of the dignity that the audacious Lucian heir had robbed from you, but you’d _sorely_ failed that extemporized commitment, hadn’t you?

“I have to admit, Prompto,” Ignis had approached and paused at your side, reaching forward with his own hands to join you in clutching the deck’s railing. “That was remarkable. To be truthful, I had my doubts; the distance from the deck and the water seemed questionably insufficient, but... you’ve astounded us all.”

“Heh. You know what that means, don’tcha?” A smirk was apparent in the way that Gladio suddenly spoke, and judging by the escalated pitch in his tone of voice, he’d craned his chin to address the still-crouching Prince up on the sailboat’s mast. “If you need help practicin’, I’m sure the girls could help you out with learning the lyrics; I had to listen to them sing that shit for _weeks_ …”

Noctis was silent. As much as you wanted to turn your cheek and revel in the way that his brows must have furrowed in distaste, you kept your eyes fastened down onto Prompto, who’d taken the opportunity to disappear beneath the water’s surface in order to propel down to the diversified seabed about ten feet below. Ever since dropping anchor amid the clear, shallow depths and disrupting the oblate ocean surface with the boys’ series of competitive jumps, the fish had scuttled and scurried in the opposite direction of the boat and detachedly kept their distance, though the motley-hued reef that dotted the seabottom’s vast expanse of white sand had been an engrossing feature of the Cygillan Sea all in itself; who needed fish when you had such a spectacular view?

“What… is he doing?” Ignis inquired quietly, seafoam hues narrowing to better analyze Prompto’s submerged figure beneath the stirring waves. Though hardly noticeable, the wind had managed to pick up; white caps were beginning to crest from further out into the ocean and clouds had languidly rolled in to cast a dusky shadow along the cusp of the midday horizon, though the waters around the sailboat had still been relatively calm given the circumstances. Had the impending storm been a _genuine_ concern, the strategist would have surely suggested lifting the anchor and heading back… Given his calm demeanor, however, the threat had still been remote.

“Not touching an anemone, I hope… They cause blisters.”

“Speaking of misfortunes,” Ignis paused, chin angling just enough for his gaze to shift directly over towards you. “How are you fairing? You mentioned that you were feeling better this morning, of course, but some injuries can still ache even after they’ve healed. Does yours?”

In truth, you hadn’t really thought about it. While the patch of flesh on your inner-thigh was still splotchy and purpled from the painstaking process of having the poison orally extracted, it didn’t ache like it had the night before. If anything, it felt as though your muscles were recovering from an extensive leg workout; every other step had elicited a dull, listless ache, though nothing that had been downright uncomfortable. “Not really, actually. I mean, I can still sort of feel it, but it’s so faint that I barely even notice.”

“That’s reassuring.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Not worried that I’ll suddenly keel over, are you?”

“Hey, guys!” Prompto’s voice abruptly sundered the conversation like a knife against thread, and right as Ignis offered up a grin of his own in response to your playful jest, you turned your head to regard the blond that had resurfaced from the seabed. “Check this out!”

With a thrust of his arm, the sharpshooter had lifted something directly up into the air for everyone’s observance, and behind you and Ignis, Gladio and Iris had quieted with their discussion over Noctis’ coordinated karaoke arrangement and casually wandered over to the deck’s railing to partake in the examination, as well. Several seconds of silence had passed before Iris spoke first, her head careening curiously to one side as she pointed a single finger at the bright orange organism that he held up between his fingers. “Prompto… Is that…?”

“A Cygillan sea star? Yep! They sell these at every port in Lucis, you know. The lore on them is that they create safe travel over troubling waters; sailors spend _stacks_ of gil on them. Pretty cool, huh? This one isn’t alive, unfortunately, but maybe we could take it with us? For good luck?”

“Are you expecting troubling waters?” Gladio teased, ebonized arms linking together across his chest. “On top of that, you really think it’s a good idea to bring a dead one onto the boat? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“How do you think they're _sold_ , big guy?”

“They get sterilized before fossilization, and it’s only _then_ that they're suitable to be vended,” Gladio countered. “Fisherman don't just haul them outta the sea and slap their corpses onto a table with quadruple-digit price tags, you know…”

Prompto gave a whine, the hand that he clutched the starfish with flailing in impatience. “What’s the _difference_? Lore is lore, and a sea star is a sea star! Just because it's not all cleaned up doesn't mean that it won't work!”

“If it's deceased, it's likely that it's already teeming with parasites…” Ignis interjected thoughtfully, earning several enthusiastic nods from Iris, who couldn't have possibly looked more revolted by the thought of bringing a lifeless marine creature on board for the sake of superstition. “Though the idea of such may seem intriguing, Prompto, I'd suggest that you leave it be. We’ve already experienced more mishaps than intended thus far; we certainly don't need to tack on any potential infections, as well. I reckon that we’ll do just fine without it’s speculated luck.”

Gladio grunted his approval. “Couldn’t agree more, Iggy.”

The gunner looked defeated; the delight of retrieving a Cygillan sea star alongside successfully landing an otherwise unfeasible double backflip had completely disintegrated from his facial expression before transitioning into one of total anguish. “ _So_ unfair…” he muttered, arcing back his arm just enough to launch the sea star back into the ocean with a dense _pwlop_ before turning back to face everyone on the sailboat. “If we end up hitting a rogue wave and capsizing or something because you guys were squeamish over a dead _sea star_ , I vote that Gladio gets to wait out the rest of the trip back in Caem.”

You watched the shield uncross his arms from your peripheral. “ _What’d_ you say?”

“For a beefy dude that can take on hordes of daemons without even flinching, it’s kind of cute to see that you’re so afraid of a _dead_ starfish.”

“Prompto,” Ignis calmly interjected, slender fingers lifting to push his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. “I was the one who suggested — ”

“What are you trying to say?” Gladio interrupted, henna hues narrowing into a glare at the still-buoyant blonde as his knuckles tightened around the deck’s railing. The thick muscle that corded the contours of his embellished back rippled in anticipation; an exotic jungle cat preparing to lunge. Having gone unheard, Ignis released a soft exhale before taking a single step backward in acceptance, making room for Gladio for when he  _did_ decide to clear the railing to pursue an obviously-taunting Prompto.

“Oh, you  _know_ what I’m trying to say,” the gunner provoked, his tone of voice unwavering despite his arms and legs working in unison to keep his neck above the water.

You heard Gladio release a low-pitched snarl, the salty breeze that fiercely sifted through everyone’s hair becoming thick with his testosterone. “No…” he husked, the serrated resonance of his voice sending an involuntary tremor throughout your every limb. “I want you to say it.”

“You really want me to say it?”

“I _really_ want you to say it.”

“We may want to step back for this one…” Iris suddenly voiced from your side as the palm of her hand lifted to press against your shoulder. The pressure behind it willed a swift retreat from the general vicinity of the railing, and you were more than happy to oblige; Gladio didn’t look like someone that you wanted to be in the way of, and judging by his rigid stance, he’d be willing take down anything and everything just to take a charge at Prompto.

“They’re... not _serious_ , are they?” You muttered, glancing over at Iris with a craned eyebrow to try and gauge her reaction.

“I don’t think so,” the younger Amicitia admitted truthfully, though the worry that creased her forehead didn’t wane despite the assertion of her statement. “Out of everyone, Gladio and Prompto roughhouse the most. They fight like siblings, and it _usually_ doesn’t turn into anything serious, but every now and then —”

“I think that you’re a pussy.”

The both of you froze when you heard it, eyes widening as Prompto’s sharpened syllables pierced through the pitching wind current and ultimately classified the controversy as something _more_ than just playful banter. It had taken Gladio less than two seconds to vault over the deck’s railing and plunge into the waters below to pursue the snickering sharpshooter — who had spun around swiftly to swim off in the opposite direction with sloppy, panicked strokes — though before the squeal of his capture could reach your ears, Ignis had turned on his heel and casually made his way past the two of you and over towards the entryway that led down to the sailboat’s lower quarters.

“On that note,” he coolly addressed, lithe fingers brushing at unseen fibers along the front of his board shorts.  “How about I get started on some lunch?”

* * *

It should have come as no surprise to you when you learned that Ignis had decided on seared, skewered trout on a bed of lemon rice for the midday meal; not only had it been one of the Prince’s favorite dishes, but it was exceptionally fitting for a day spent out on the ocean. As forewarned, the strategist had insisted on working alone; the size of the kitchenette in the sailboat’s quarters was nowhere near large enough to comfortably provide a workspace for more than one person, and the level of effort needed for the meal’s completion wasn’t high enough to require any additional help, so rather than conveying persistence, you and Iris had resigned to the cozy, shaded table nook out on the deck to kill time until it was time to eat.

Despite the portentous stormclouds that collocated in the distance, the day was still remarkably beautiful. The temperature was of an impeccable degree, and aside from the gentle swells of the ocean’s surface, the seabed could be still be perceived with perfect, aqueous clarity. Once Prompto and Gladio had hauled themselves out of the water and back onto the sailboat, (none the worse for wear, thankfully), schools upon schools of bright, tropical fish scuttled and scurried back into the proximity and brought the Cygillan Sea to life beneath the effulgent rays of the midday sun. There was movement everywhere… Clusters of purple, yellow and blue braided into one another to create a prismatic array of vibrant colors against the backdrop of oscillating sponges and moored coral, and despite the clicks and flashes of Prompto’s Lokton LX-X1R, such photographs would _never_ be able to capture the sheer beauty of the real thing. Even after the vacation was over, you weren’t even sure that your own _recollections_ would be able to retain the ocean’s luster, the pungency of the sea salt, but you’d do your best to commit every possible detail to memory; you’d never see anything like this again.

When Noctis had finally warped down from the rostrum to fetch his fishing rod and tacklebox, you struggled to keep your thoughts on the ocean and the marine life that thrived within it; you’d only _just_ managed to relax, and if you could help it, you’d ensure that you stayed that way. Thoughts and concerns over the Crown Prince had been an unnecessary distraction from the activities at hand, and while you inwardly kicked yourself for letting him get the better of you, you _knew_ that you could overcome the perplexing intensity of his presence if you just tried. All you had to do was focus on the important things  — like the view, for example. The sounds, the smells. The way that Iris giggled at her older brother for barely being able to fit into the table nook, and the way that Prompto nearly toppled over with every vigorous gust of wind across the sailboat deck.

All of the small things — the _important_ things, rather  — had stamped out your underlying curiosity and suspicion of Noctis, and before you knew it, you were smiling instead of scowling and laughing instead of sighing. Every so often, however, you’d hear him call out from the front of the sailboat, attracting everyone’s attention to whatever multi-colored fish that he’d happened to catch. Out of water, the lot of them looked… different. Bizarre, even. Some had barbs on their faces and some had barbs on their fins. Some were a graceful, captivating shade of pink, and some were such ugly shades of brown that they belonged in septic tanks rather than the ocean. The Cygillan Sea brimmed with all sorts of exotic life, and thanks to the Prince’s love for fishing, you were able to bare witness to several examples of such.

… From a distance, of course. Keeping your gaze averted from the chiseled contours of his torso and the piercing blue of his eyes had _still_ been a priority, regardless if your heartrate had finally slowed or not. You’d _ensure_ your relaxation, remember?

Once Ignis had emerged from the sailboat’s quarters with six steaming plates of skewered fish on beds of lemon rice, however, Noctis had all but dropped his fishing gear to launch himself across the deck and over toward the crowded table nook to take a seat alongside everyone else. While you were fortunate that he didn’t take the open spot directly next to you, you couldn’t necessarily say that any of the other seats were much better; just as you’d feared, his proximity alone had been enough to make you react, and throughout the course of the meal, you’d kept your eyes low and your voice quiet, nodding and humming every so often to seem interested just enough to avoid suspicion. Much to your surprise, it had worked — the conversations between everyone had been smooth and fluid, chewing mouths spewing compliments on Ignis’ seared trout before falling into random bouts of silence for the sake of exquisite indulgence; everyone had been too distracted to take notice of your inadvertent fidgets, shallow breaths and stained cheeks, and for that, you were grateful.

Just a few more bites.... Just a few more bites, and you’d be able to excuse yourself to another part of the sailboat. When you went to sink your fork back into the tousled bed of lemon rice, your entire plate — along with everyone else’s — slid abruptly down the length of the table before clattering down onto the hardwood below, and before you had an opportunity to realize what exactly had happened, Iris had latched onto your forearm and wrenched you close to her right as the sailboat careened so sharply to the side that you’d have surely slipped from the table had it not been for her grasp on you. The sway had lasted all of three seconds, though the moment that the boat had unsettlingly leveled back out, Ignis and Gladio had hauled themselves from the table to make for the deck’s railing while Noctis disappeared in a wash of blue light to warp back up to the sailboat’s mast.

“What the hell was  _that?_ ” Prompto rasped, more to himself than to you and Iris, though with his words, the younger Amicitia tightened her grip around your arm and pressed the side of her face against your shoulder.

Beams of sunlight still danced across the polished planks of the sailboat’s deck, though from a glance, it was obvious that the sky had darkened considerably since everyone had sat down for lunch; illuminated lamps amidst that of a large, dusky room. The warmth of Iris’ skin against yours had acted as a startling realization of just how much the temperature had dropped, as well — the coastal breeze carrying with it a chill strong enough to elicit goosebumps when it felt like just the opposite only literal seconds ago.

" _Hey, Specs?_ ”

Ignis and Gladio both craned their chins in response to the Prince’s voice, and with their subtle movements, you could vaguely make out the surge of roiling whitecaps out in the distance that they’d both just been analyzing. You also couldn’t help but notice that the blue-green tint to the ocean’s deeper segments had become murky from the turbulence, and judging by the worry that suddenly creased the adviser’s brow when he lifted his gaze towards Noctis, you knew that the impending storm had the security of the boat rapidly descending into the red…

“ _We’ve got to go,”_ the Prince shouted, the syllables cracking with panic. _“We’ve got to go now._ ”

“What do you see?”

“ _Black._ ”

Had it not been for the expanse of the caning sails and your position inside of the table nook, you’d have singlehandedly experienced the inexorable dread of witnessing the horror that Noctis was referring to; as troublesome as the waters seemed to be, the sky itself had appeared to be much, much worse. A simple glance of such was all that it took to strike _real_ fear in the adviser, and the moment that he spun on his heel to sprint over towards the sailboat’s bow to begin work of hauling up the anchor, Gladio had launched himself in the opposite direction in order to seize control of the now-reeling steering wheel. Seeing the most composed member of the group succumb to panic had done naught for Iris’ nerves, and despite her ever-tightening grip, you did your best to keep a straight face for her. Though the circumstances were most certainly _not_ fine, the last thing that you wanted to do was worsen the situation by expressing your own anxieties  — despite how badly you wanted the reassurances that’d keep you from doing such.

“Prompto!” Ignis suddenly shouted, arms straining as they worked to diligently pull yards of taut, soused rope into the boat before his hands encircled the twenty-five pound fluke anchor at the end of it. With a grunt, he straightened his posture and hauled the grapnel over the railing before practically tossing it back onto the deck. Before it had a chance to finish grating across the hardwood, however, Prompto had rushed from the table nook in order to retrieve it, and Ignis thanked him with a brisk, curt nod while he took a moment to catch his breath. Even in the midst of such a dire situation, the adviser still found time to express his gratitude; an admirable man in every sense of the word.

When Prompto hurried past the table nook in order to carry the galvanized anchor down below deck, you found yourself trying to pry out of Iris’ grasp as you slid yourself toward the end of the vinyl seat in preparation to stand. “How can we help?” You called out, though the sharp, discordant wind of the fast-approaching storm bestowed your offering onto deaf ears. Louder, you spoke — this time, earning nothing more than a quizzical glance from the sharpshooter right as he bent to step through the entryway to the lower quarters. Your expression must have symbolized your interests, for with a reassuring grin and a dismissive wave, Prompto silently indicated that assistance wasn’t necessary and to stay put in the table nook; it was fine, everything was fine.

Except that it wasn’t fine. When the second rogue wave rolled into the boat’s hull, you could have sworn that you heard Prompto crash into the wall below deck before dropping to the floor, though your main concern was to stay as grounded as possible while the boat was once again tilted so abruptly that had it not been for your white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table, you and Iris both would have slipped and slid across the deck all the way to the railing. Again, it had only taken a matter of seconds for the boat to level back out, though as soon as it did, you couldn’t help yourself — you needed to _help_ , and if that meant exposing yourself to the risk of potentially getting thrown overboard, then so be it.

_All hands on deck, after all._

You barely made it five feet across the deck before the sky fissured with a thunderous roar, and in heavy, slanted sheets, rain cascaded down onto the sailboat and ultimately condensed your line of sight to mere _feet_ while simultaneously drenching you in water that was far too cold to just be from a ‘passing storm’. Squinting against the onslaught, you took a moment to acclimate to the strenuous condition before carefully making your way toward the central deck  — if anything needed to be taken care of in the treacherous case of inclement weather, it was the sails. Last you checked (and heard, for that matter), they still whipped and thrashed at full mast; the complete opposite of what they needed to be. You didn’t know the first damn thing about trimming a sail, but by the Gods, you had to at least _try_.

“What are you doing?”

You felt him before you heard him — as if in slow motion, all five of his fingers closed around your wrist before tightening with a gentle pull, and in that moment, no amount of cold water could douse the heat that flared up in your lower-abdomen from the simple way that his skin felt against yours. His touch spoke of a faraway comfort, but his voice was just the opposite — the words were apathetic toward your cause, instead laced with incredulity at the fact that you were even _trying_ to put yourself to use rather than cowering in a corner while the earthly deities did their damnedest to ensure the sailboat’s demise. As if struck, you wrenched your arm from the scion’s grasp and angled your chin to meet his irradiant gaze, though despite its crystalline luster, it harbored a wicked, noxious darkness that fleetingly made you suspect an entombed hatred. The intensity of it was enough to make you hesitate, and after several seconds of silence, the Prince curled his lip.

“What are you _doing?_ ” He repeated, tone clipped with impatience. Against the gray veil of the storm and it’s unyielding downpour, the saturated tufts of his most notable Caelum attribute was stark in contrast; a security beacon in case you needed to locate one of them.

“I want to close the sails,” you shouted in response, though the practical drumfire of the overhead storm kept your words from carrying. When Noctis narrowed his eyes in confusion, you stretched your arm and pointed up towards where you assumed the sails still flapped and thrashed against their bindings, though when the Prince failed to acknowledge your gesture, you took to pointing more fervently. “The _sails!_ ” You tried again, vocals straining to surpass the clamor of the rain and the thunder. “I want to _close them_! The wind will blow us over if they stay open!”

“I already closed them.”

You stopped pointing, arm falling limp at your side. “What?”

“What?”

“You already closed them?”

“I can’t hear you.”

“ _You already closed —"_

“You don’t need to be out here.” Noctis reached for you a second time, his fingers circling around your wrist before giving you another gentle tug. For the second time, his touch didn’t harbor the hostility that his voice did, and before you had an opportunity to talk yourself out of it, you found yourself trying to pull free again.

“What is _with_ you?” You sputtered hastily. “I’m just trying to help!”

The soles of your sandals failed to catch against the hardwood in your attempt to pull back, though before you had a chance to truly slip and fall, the Prince’s grip tightened around your wrist before righting you with a jerk that inadvertently had you stumbling forward. Before you crashed into him, you made sure to brace yourself — breath catching in the back of your throat in preparation for the shiver that’d tear through you once his body heat melded with yours, though the collision never came... Noctis had stopped you at mere inches, both of his palms having suddenly secured the swells of your shoulders to keep you from lumbering further, and you weren’t sure if you were thankful for it or not. “It’s not safe,” he said simply, the proximity between his face and yours allowing for clearer communication, though before you had a chance to even part your lips in some sort of response, he drew back, releasing you in the process. “Take Iris and go below deck... Specs says that it’s safer down there.”

The heat had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, and for the first time since leaving Galdin, you found yourself _wanting_ the Prince’s touch rather than not. Whether it had anything to do with the chill of the rain, you weren’t overly certain  — all you knew was that an ache blossomed in the pit of your stomach the second that he let you go, and despite your notable expression of impassivity, your body had began to tremble from the withdrawal. Had it not been for the cold, it’d have likely been twice as worse than it was — the ‘electricity’ that Noctis’ closeness had recently influenced was humming like a hot, voltaic wire, but your body temperature in combination with a frustration toward his blatant disregard had severely diluted it.

“Just…” He paused long enough to push out a sigh, both of his palms lifting to wipe rainwater from his eyes. “Please? We’ve got everything taken care of up here, and it’s so easy for something to —”

Though less relentless than the previous two, another wave surged against the side of the sailboat and made it shift unsettlingly to the left — the gravitational pull enough of an indicator that the vessel was literally being rotated by the riotous current. Given the fact that visibility was poor, you couldn’t help but wonder if the direction of Galdin was all but lost… If Ignis somehow managed to miraculously find his way back after all of this, you’d have to buy him a beer. While the thought was reassuring, it wasn’t necessarily feasible; the entire situation was turning more and more into something out of a nightmare.

After the third wave had settled, Noctis hurriedly warped out of sight without another word to you, and without anymore hesitation, you found enough willpower to move your legs and shuffle back toward where you originally came. Without anything to hold on to, balance was difficult to maintain; the boat rocked at a constant, and the wood enamel that coated the deck made slipping extremely probable, though as soon the entryway that led down to the lower quarters came into view, you practically dove for it.

“Thank _Etro!_ ” Iris shouted, scrambling from beneath a blanket that she’d buried herself under in order to latch onto your arms to further encourage you inside. Judging by her condition, she’d sought refuge as soon as it started to rain; her pullover had been peppered with dark spots, though her hair had still been relatively dry. You, on the other hand, had looked quite the opposite — a cat having been hauled out of a swimming pool being a comparable and exceptionally fitting example. “Are you okay? Are _they_ okay? What’s going on out there?”

An hour spent below deck had easily turned into two before you and Iris were joined by everyone else, each looking more physically wrecked than next as they shuffled into the cabin one by one with a multitude of welts, scrapes and bruises from fighting to keep the _S.S. Odin_ fully upright against the storm’s merciless conditions. They’d only decided to come inside because the worst had officially passed, and with a concentrated steeple of his fingers, Ignis had quietly admitted that the boat had been carried so far out into the sea that the shoreline was no longer visible… With the help of a compass, however, he’d assured that it was only a matter of time before a calmer wind caught the sails and brought the boat back to the safety of Galdin, though not until early the following morning. The night would have to be spent out on the ocean, and the idea of that had to have troubled you more than the storm itself had…

Not only had there not been enough space in the cabin for six people, but everything out on the deck had been thoroughly saturated — sleeping outside wasn’t an option, nor was it particularly safe. On top of that, you weren’t even sure that sleeping would _be_ an option given the close proximity of everyone as a whole. The cabin was equipped with a couch that pulled out into a bed alongside a cramped floor space, so unless someone fell asleep sitting on the single step leading out onto the deck, it’d be a tight and uncomfortable trip back… As if the terrors of the storm hadn’t been traumatizing enough, you were now faced with the possibility of sleeping directly _next_ to the one person who made you want to rip open your own seams from something as simple as a godsdamned _question_ …

You couldn’t let it happen. You’d _beg_ to sleep outside before you’d let yourself sleep next to him… The risk of succumbing to another one of his looks, another one of his touches — to _anything_ that pertained to him, rather — wasn’t worth it, especially not when four other people would all be within the same restricted radius that’d do _more_ than just breach one another’s personal space. Your interests didn’t consist of _any_ verbal or physical declarations of an insatiable lust spurred on by the Lucian heir, but if you’d be so unlucky as to actually end up next to him, it’d be the very _first_ thing that you’d let yourself succumb to.

You couldn’t trust yourself.... You couldn’t trust _yourself_ , and you couldn’t trust _him._ His was a fire that scorched and blistered rather than burned, and if there was anything that you’d learned from desire and her wicked provocations, such flames were advised to stay well away from lest you yearned for utter destruction. In _this_ case, destruction sounded like heaven rather than hell; the Prince’s hellfire easily mistaken for the celestial glow that surrounded the pearly gates. You couldn’t afford such a temptation… Not _now_ , at least.

After Ignis had supplied a Potion vial for the afflictions sustained to everyone who would accept one, wool blankets were pulled from the cabin’s cupboards and then laid out across the floor in a makeshift pallet — the cushions from the couch to be used as pillows. Per Prompto’s request, the glass panel that windowed the seabed below was left exposed.

“ _The glowing barrelfish!”_ He’d insisted excitedly, despite the fact that keeping the fenestra visible resulted in an even tighter sleeping space. Gladio had mumbled something about a lost cause, though didn’t protest — the guy could lay beneath a stack of cinderblocks and still manage to fall asleep; spacing wasn’t a primary concern of his. After a very brief, yet very _relieving_ conversation about arrangements, it had been decided that you, Iris and Ignis would be sharing the couch’s pullout trundle while Prompto, Noctis and Gladio took to the floor pallet — a decision that ultimately had you praising the Six for showing some sort of compassion toward your cause; perhaps they weren’t behind the enigma as you’d suspected, after all.

Despite the relief of sleeping away from the Crown Prince, however, Ignis’ presence atop the pullout was less than satisfactory in the respect that he was larger in stature. Prompto would have been a more ideal candidate, though the gunner’s fascination with the floor’s porthole took precedence over sleeping comfortably — as to be expected, of course. The last thing that you wanted to do was complain and risk the adviser graciously switching positions out of consideration for you and Iris, so once his portable gas-lamp had been extinguished to bathe the cabin’s expanse in a tranquil darkness, you rolled over onto your side and silently endured the way that Iris’ elbows pressed into your back throughout the course of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, GUYS. LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND.  
> I understand that I've put a lot of hype into how much progress that I've been making lately, but I've decided to come to terms with the fact that posting a 20+ page chapter is ridiculous. With that being said, this chapter _has been cut off_ at 14 pages to, one) come back onto the scene after a three-month hiatus and, two) to get everyone excited and prepared for the JUUUICE that's to be expected in the next chapter. 
> 
> I AM ALREADY HALFWAY FINISHED WITH CHAPTER 9, so the wait will be EXTREMELY minimal. I apologize to everyone who felt any disappointment with this chapter's content, but I can assure all of you that this was a decision that I HAD to make; I was driving myself insane by going through each day expecting to finish up only to... well, not. People have been excited for the next update - I just wanted to give them _something_. You guys are the driving force behind my dedication; I'll never be able to thank you enough.
> 
> <3


	9. Rubicon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Is it me you're looking for?  
>  ~~What are you talking about? It hasn't been four months since my last update, no way, u cray.~~
> 
> I'm not gonna cram a lot of information in here because I'm sure folks are wanting to hurry up and dive genitals-first into this installment, B U T — if you haven't already, I recommend going back and reading previous chapters to brush up on everything that happens up until this point; it'll make it more enjoyable, trust me. It's been a LONG time.
> 
> Also, a brief note — the _flashbacks _in this piece take place four years before the boys leave Insomnia, when Noctis is sixteen years-old. The context will be pretty self-explanatory, but everyone may not understand it, so — here you go.__
> 
>  
> 
> Bless the babes (new and old) that still follow the story. This one's for **you**. ❤

_“Noctis...” Regis quietly addresses against steepled fingers, green irises glinting against a singular beam of afternoon sunlight that spills in through the stained, overhead glass of the cabinet’s windows. Though a man of only forty-six, ashen follicles streak through his crown of notable ebony while folds of flesh crinkle the corners of his soft, kind eyes; a man in his late fifties to those who didn’t know better. “Noctis,” he voices again, gently thumbing at the burdensome band that encircles the ring finger of his right hand. “Have I ever told you about how I met your mother? How I met Aulea?”_

_The fountain pen between the concentrated clutch of the younger Caelum’s fingers is relinquished ever slightly, penmanship deviating with the distraction of his father’s words and subtly serrating the glossy lines of each letter scripted. Had Ignis been present, he’d have scowled his disapproval; weeks of practicing calligraphy with a disciplined hand hadn’t been enough to outweigh a topic so delicate, though what the advisor didn’t know certainly wouldn’t hurt him… If asked, a hand cramp would be to blame. “Once, I think,” Noctis replies coolly, index and middle fingers working to readjust his utensil before lowering its tip back down onto his sheet of homework paper. “You met each other when you were kids, right?”_

_Regis simpers with remembrance. “That we did. I used to pull her hair during dinner parties in the Citadel, in fact… Sometimes hard enough to make her cry. She’d get so upset with me, as would her mother; such mischief and horseplay was certainly unbecoming of a young Prince, I knew, but neither of them understood why I was so fond of doing it.” The padding of his thumb presses into the stannic band around his ring finger again, weary eyes crinkling with a smile as he idly begins to rotate the metal around the digit. “It was the only way that I could get her to notice me. She was apathetic toward formalities, you see… Etiquacy was about as dependable as a sack of sprouting potatoes, so I had to settle with eccentricity.”_

_“... By yanking on her hair?” Noctis quips, blue eyes sliding from his stationery to facetiously regard his father at the other end of the study table. “That’s a little_ too _eccentric, don’t you think?”_

 _“As an eight year-old boy, I most certainly did not think so. In point of fact, I found it to be a perfectly reasonable expression of infatuation…” The Lucian King comes to a pause when his son’s facial expression twists with laughter in response, though before Regis can issue a somber rebuke at Noctis for making light of his recollection, he’s fighting to suppress a chuckle of his own — it_ was _a little silly, wasn’t it?_

 _Aulea had, indeed, been a colloquial child — despite the eminence of her surname, her viewpoint of aristocracies and their general attributes had stemmed from a lack of familiarity toward them as a whole. Had it not been for her father and his respected medical expertise, (and his father's’ before him), invitations to Citadel festivities would never have been extended; while her family had been influential and substantially affluent, they certainly weren’t_ royalty. _However, their distinctive involvement with the Lucian people had gained the respect of King Mors, himself — per his insistence, they’d always be welcomed into the Citadel, even if for insignificant events such as impromptu banquets and casual gatherings._

 _Noctis had known all of this, of course — several years after Aulea had passed, Regis had substituted his son’s usual and customary bedtime story with a narration on how he had come to meet her as a child. Despite his puerility, the young Prince had been fascinated by the tale — it pertained to his late mother, after all — and even issued a plethora of questions in the days that followed in hopes of learning_ more, _though Regis had always been devotedly selective with the information that he divulged. Why he had chosen Aulea to be his wife, for example; why he had loved her as powerfully, as_ deeply _as he did. Such explanations were reserved for a later point in Noctis’ life, however  — when an appropriate level of maturation had set in that would undoubtedly ensure complete and total understanding of the ways in which the Six had influence over the selection of a Caelum’s soulmate._

 _The smile on Regis’ face slowly wanes. “Noctis,” he says, eyebrows pulling together in determination before he’s leaning forward in his chair to earnestly address his son on the other side of the table. “I think it’s time that I disclose something very, very important to you — a piece of information that’s imperative for your future as an heir of Lucis; for your future as a_ **Caelum**.”

* * *

You didn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep.

For close to an hour, you listened to the stilling waves of the Cygillan Sea lap at the sailboat’s hull and echo peacefully throughout the cluttered cabin, but despite its aquatic berceuse, sleep had trouble finding you. You weren’t sure whether or not it had anything to do with your position, Iris’ hypnic jerks, the gentle sway of the ocean or Gladio’s emphatic snoring, but as time went on, you found yourself getting progressively frustrated by it. How had it been so easy for everyone _else_ to fall asleep? The boys, you could understand — they were used to sleeping under strange, aberrant conditions — but _Iris?_ For as long as you could remember, she’d been a picky sleeper — the ceiling fan couldn’t be too loud, the door had to be closed, her teeth had to be brushed and she had to be dressed accordingly to even _consider_ sleep — yet her soft breathing was one of the firsts to be heard after everyone had settled in.

The last thing that you remembered was heaving out a sigh and screwing your eyes shut in irritation after another accidental jab from Iris, though now — as they slowly fluttered open in response to a quiet rustling from the other end of the trundle — you quickly realized that you _had_ , in fact, managed to fall asleep, after all. Curious about the sound, however, you lifted your chin just enough to peer over your shoulder at a shadowed Ignis, who was in the process of sliding his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and pushing back the wool blanket that the three of you struggled to share in order to climb off of the bedstead.

“Ignis?” You whisper, heavy lids struggling to stay above your pupils as you tried to focus them on the strategist. “Everything okay?”

“Indeed,” he replies quietly, his lithe body twisting atop the cot in preparation to stand. “We’re close to Galdin; I can hear the gulls.”

“You... can?”

“Can’t you?”

Sleepily, you drop your cheek back down against the trundle and close your eyes in concentration, head slowly shaking from left to right when the only sound that reached your ears was still that of the ocean purling against the sailboat’s hull. God, it sounded _nice_ … So quiet, so relaxing — like one of those nature soundpods that they sold in fancy department stores for folks who needed a gentle sort of background noise in order to fall asleep easily. It was only a matter of time before you could indirectly see why; within minutes, sleep had claimed you again — the ocean’s temperate melodies lulling you back into a blissful unconsciousness.

An unceremonious lurch of the _S.S. Odin_ alongside a series of distant shouts had your eyes opening a second time, though it wasn’t until a set of cumbersome footfalls descended down into the cabin that you came to fully realize what was happening; the boat had, _finally,_ made it back to Galdin Quay, and judging by its earlier falter, it was being carefully secured back at the resort’s harbor.

“Come on, guys,” Gladio grates, his voice thick with fatigue as he nudges his knee against the trundle that you and Iris still snoozed on. “We’re back. Let’s get out of this damn thing and get some real sleep back at the hotel.”

Iris gives a sluggish whine from your side in response, body shifting beneath the blanket as she tries to haul it up and over her head in protest to her brother’s suggestion, but Gladio snares it with clutching fingers before she’s able to. “Gladdy…” she grumbles, kicking once at the bed in frustration before slowly lifting her arms into the air in silent solicitation.

Gladio scoffs his displeasure. “I’m _not_ carrying you.”

“I’m so sleepy, though...”

“Iris, I’m _not_ carrying you.”

“Please?”

The shield gives a grunt before his leaden stride slowly circles around the trundle, and after several seconds of trying to bend and hook his arms beneath Iris’ legs and shoulders, Gladio finally manages to hoist her up without hitting his head against the cabin’s low ceiling. “You’re just a lazy sack, s’what you are…” He grumbles, carefully readjusting the younger Amicitia until the side of her head was able to loll against his chest rather than droop over his bicep before his gaze sluggishly shifts down towards you. “Hey... You comin’? Pretty sure your bed will feel a _lot_ better than that damn pullout, (Y/N)… Sun’s not even up yet. You’d fall right back asleep.”

You didn’t even want to consider it; not only was the wool blanket a pleasant temperature from you and Iris’ shared body heat, but you _officially —_ **_finally_ ** _—_ had the cot all to yourself. On top of that, exhaustion still plagued the backs of your eyelids… Moving was the _last_ thing that you wanted to do. “M’good,” you mutter, sleepily waving him off before twisting beneath the blanket to further seek out its warmth.

Gladio scoffs, giving Iris another readjusting hoist before carefully stepping around the pallets that still dot the cabin’s floor. “Whatever you say. Just... don’t sleep forever, yeah?” A muffled, indistinct grunt sounds from somewhere behind you, and judging by the chuckle that Gladio gives in response, he’d taken to intentionally stepping on someone that still slept on the floor for emphasis — Prompto and Noctis had to have been just as impervious to waking up as you were. “Come daybreak, the staff are comin’ to clean up the boat for the next reservation. If you’re not out of here by then, you’re gonna have Iggy to deal with. Snooze wisely.”

You hummed your acknowledgement, silently reveling in the way that the echo of Gladio’s heavy footfalls disappeared with his departure and once again pitched the cabin into a calm, placid silence. Despite what Ignis had mentioned earlier about the seagulls, you couldn’t hear them; you couldn’t hear _anything_. No snoring, no deep breathing... No creaks, no shifting. Now that the sailboat was tied back up to the pier’s cleats, the tide didn’t have as much of an impact — no sloshing, no _swaying_. Had you not known any better, the comfort of the trundle could have easily been mistaken for your supple mattress back at the hotel… It was just as soft, just as buoyant; it was like you were already back there. Immediately, your arms and your legs stretched to the cot’s edges to take full advantage of the copious space before pushing out a sigh of only the utmost relaxation, muscles aching from their limited mobility throughout the course of the night and duly reminding you of how badly you needed to sleep it off now that you actually _could._

Dropping your cheek, you nuzzle your face into the scratchy fibers of the wool blanket and breathe deeply into the antiquarian fabric, the shopworn smell of such well on it’s way to pacifying you entirely, but against the stark black of your closed eyelids, however, something suddenly moved — a quick, fleeting wisp of blue light. Furrowing your brows, you open your eyes to the esoteric darkness of the cabin, though nothing else — light itself had been wholly absent, and continued to be even as you lay there in silent curiosity, pupils focusing on nothing in particular in hopes of catching a cursory glimpse of any illuminated abnormality against the cabin’s shadows. For several minutes, you stayed this way — quiet, still and observant — until that same blue glow spilled into the room from the floor’s casement and cast soft, spiraling shadows onto the ceiling above.

_The glowing barrelfish!_

All too quickly, your lethargy was seized by an overwhelming sense of excitement and you found yourself rolling over toward the other side of the trundle with Prompto’s name on the tip of your tongue — honestly, _why_ hadn’t he noticed them yet!? — but the moment that you peered over the edge of the pullout in preparation to address him, however, your blood _promptly_ turned to ice — heart taking a nauseating plummet down to the pit of your stomach before fluttering hard enough to siphon all of the color from your face. The disheveled disarray of blankets that carpeted the hardwood floor below  _hadn’t_ contained two bodies like you’d originally suspected…

They contained _one._

When you went to swallow, your mouth had gone dry — tongue practically sticking to your palette as you struggled to find a short, appropriate comment in response to the way that the Lucian heir’s glacial gaze bore unsettlingly into yours. It was as if he was _expecting_ you to look over the side of the trundle; nothing about the way he was positioned symbolized a negligence toward your cognizance, and to make matters worse, he couldn’t have possibly looked more awake… _How long had he been like that?_ Why would he even stay inside of the cabin if _not_ to sleep? Before your frenetic heart could punch a hole through your chest, you compelled yourself to break his calcified stare in order to focus on the rectangular porthole down at his immediate side with the hope of finding consolation in the bright, effulgent scales of Galdin’s scuttling barrelfish, though (unsurprisingly, of course) none came…  

“Why aren’t you at the hotel?” You ask after several moments, taking a figurative mallet to the ice with a question that would hopefully pitch the conversation into a direction devoid of any provocation; _why are you staring at me like that?_ would have been far more appropriate, but you weren’t one for gambling — taking your chances with something so dicey wasn’t necessarily in your best interest… Not when your every thought circled around keeping your breathing regulated, stable and ultimately clear of any indication that the Prince’s very presence was doing an unspeakable number on you.

“Why aren’t you?” He replies casually, tone brimming with enough indifference to make you shift uncomfortably on top of the trundle. As had been the case out on the sailboat’s deck, his voice and his kinesics weren’t in tandem; had it not been for the way that he’d just looked at you, you’d decidedly categorize yourself as nothing more than an annoyance. Had that _truly_ been the case, however, he certainly wouldn’t be here… He’d have woken up with everyone else and shuffled back to the hotel, yet he didn’t; not only had he decided to stay, but he’d taken to keeping a careful eye on the couch’s pullout, as well… Watching. _Waiting_?

You managed to conjure up enough saliva to be able to swallow a second time. “I was tired,” you quietly counter, curling your fingers into the abrasive fibers of your blanket and channeling your disquiet over his behavior into how tightly that you fisted it. Despite the rich, dulcet chuckle that stemmed from your response, you kept your eyes locked onto the shimmering pane in the floor rather than letting them ascend back up to the Prince’s face.

“Yeah?” He asks, amused. “Definitely don’t seem tired. In fact…” Trailing off, Noctis excavates one of his hands from beneath his accumulation of blankets before coasting his palm along the smooth glass of the lucarne and rapping his index finger three times against the surface — the barrelfish don’t even acknowledge it. “Seems to me like you’re too distracted to sleep.”

“I just… didn’t think that they’d be here after the storm,” you admit honestly, your clutch loosening ever slightly from your blanket as you prop yourself up onto your forearms, clearly fascinated with the newfound topic of Galdin’s underwater inhabitants. “Figured that Prompto would want to see them more than anyone else, but…” Noctis’ gaze follows yours when you allow it to ghost over toward the wedge of empty space that sits between him and the cabin’s wall — the place where Prompto was _supposed_ to be — and with a heavy sigh, you slowly shift it back toward the porthole; despite the fluidity of the conversation, you weren’t yet willing to look at Noctis again. “There’s always another time, I know, but he _was_ pretty excited about seeing them... _Especially_ through the floor.”

“Yeah,” concedes the Prince. “He was. It’s... probably for the best, though…”

With _great_ reluctance, you finally decide to lift your eyes... The Prince’s face was cast in a blue, pirouetting glow from the southern window, the vividity of his irises almost impossible to differentiate from the sclera, but if there was _one_ thing that you _could_ ascertain, it was that his pupils were notably distended...

“What is?” You inquire almost cautiously, eyebrows pulling together as your fingers blindly search for the comfort of your blanket again; whatever he did next — whatever he _said_ — you’d need to route the emotions that it’d elicit somewhere other than your face. You’d taken a risk by encouraging him with such a question, and in the next several seconds, you _knew_ that the atmosphere would shift from good-natured and obeisant to downright ruinous with his response; _what did he mean ‘for the best’?_

Noctis picks up on your apprehension immediately. “You should relax, (Y/N),” he says simply, chin angling up just enough to catch your worried gaze beneath a thick veil of stygian lashes. “You’ve got nothing to worry about… I don’t even have it turned on right now, anyway.”

A moment of silence had turned into several before you manage to expulse a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, but upon your next inhale, you came to realize that your entire face had burned with the intensity of a dozen fiery Eos suns. “... _What did you say_?”

* * *

 _Regis’ explication takes a solid half-hour to narrate — by its conclusion, darkness had long since fallen upon the Crown City and the shimmer of the city’s streetlights reflect off of the window’s kaleidoscopic panes in clinquant spurts. The warm wash of a nearby sconce spills across the length of the cabinet’s table enough to illuminate the Prince’s long-discarded homework assignment, though he won’t be completing it tonight  — he_ can’t; _not only is there a visible tremor to both of his hands, but his mind is fighting to accept the distressing truth behind his father’s words. Essays on noise pollution could_ wait.

 _“That doesn’t make_ any _sense,” Noctis finally mutters, eyebrows drawing together to crease his forehead as a staggering wave of nausea — of helplessness — tightens his chest to the point of discomfort. “Why?” He husks. “_ Why _would they get to control that part of our lives?”_

 _The King’s expression is one of patience and diligence; he had expected this. In fact, he had reacted similarly at age sixteen — shocked, powerless, and above all,_ angry _. ‘Who do the Gods think that they are?’, he’d asked his father, followed by a string of questions that Mors had been pleasantly meticulous in answering — it was only fair that he respond to his son’s indignation in a comparable fashion. “It’s how it has always been, Noctis,” he calmly explains, fingers threading together into a gentle clasp on top of the table. “Since the age of gods, the Astrals have directly overseen the pairing of a Lucian monarch and their predestined partner. Think of it not as an ‘arrangement’, however — there are no decrees, contracts or rulings that unwillingly force your devotion to who has been selected for you. Despite what you may think, son... It’s a much,_ much _simpler process than that.”_

 _“How can_ any part of that _be simple?” The Prince sharply retorts, facial expression cinched with disbelief._

 _Regis almost smiles. “How can one be against the preordination if they, themselves, wish for it on a visceral level? Think about it, Noctis. The Astrals don’t_ control _who you’re meant to spend eternity with — who you’re spiritually drawn to, even. Your desires — your wants, your needs — all originate within yourself; the only person in control of that is_ you.”

_“No, you just said that they — “_

_“Noctis,” Regis calmly interjects, the corner of his mouth pulling back into a perceptive grin as the younger Caelum reddens with frustration. “They only reinforce what’s already there, my son.”_

_“‘Reinforce’?” The Prince repeats, blue eyes softening from a better sense of understanding, though confusion is still etched into the tight line of his mouth. “What does that mean?”_

_“You can harbor attraction and emotion for anyone, anywhere — one person, five; infatuation is infatuation, and as human beings, we’re entitled to indulge in as much or as little as we’d like. However, there will be_ one _person that appeals to you more than the others — someone whose very soul will call out for yours. It’ll be… unmistakable, Noctis. When it happens to you, you’ll know; the chemistry that you experience will be_ remarkable. _”_

 _Despite Regis’ clarification, Noctis doesn’t look the least bit assuaged — blue eyes now cleaving into his father like a hot knife through margarine. “All because of the Astrals, right?” He quips, sarcasm and irritation thickly encompassing his tone of voice. “From what I understand, you’re saying that there’s going to be someone in my life that’s_ meant _for me. Right? A soulmate. Whenever I meet this person, nothing —_ no one — _else is going to matter to me in the same degree… Right? Like how Mom was for you?”_

_Regis gives a confirmatory nod._

_“If the Six fortify how you feel about a person — your... ‘soulmate’, for example — then are they really your soulmate, by translation? Or is all of it a manipulation?”_

_“You’re looking too much into it, son.” The King’s composure doesn’t waver; again, he had expected this. “It’s difficult to make you understand the simplicity of it without having experienced it, yourself. When your time comes, Noctis, you’ll_ know — _and you won’t question it, because you won’t wish to... It’ll be exactly what you want, and once your partner comes to the same realization, it becomes even more beautiful. Ultimately,_ that _is the work of the Six.”_

 _Noctis is silent for several long, drawn-out moments before his lips are parting in preparation to speak, chest expanding with a deep inhale only for him to hesitantly hold it in — for the first time that evening, he was speechless._ What had his father just said? ‘Beautiful’? " _I, um…” he pauses, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek.“What do you mean?”_

 _“I mean,” Regis starts, taking a moment to draw his clutched palms away from the tabletop before settling them into his lap. “The connection will be at it’s strongest when both parties come to acknowledge — and accept — the raw energy of it. Once that’s been done, Noctis… You, as an heir to the throne of Lucis and a royal descendant of the Caelum bloodline, will be able to_ control it _.”_

_“Wait, what — what do you mean by —"_

_Finally, Regis smiles. “When it’s time, you will see._ That _is something that I cannot teach you. The Astrals will grant you many gifts in your foreseeable future, though it’s with this one in particular that they play their role in a Lucian inheritor’s predetermined course for propagation.”_

* * *

“Relax,” Noctis repeats, his tone of voice still infuriatingly thick with disinterest, though the way that he leans forward just to recite the word subtly implies a general concern for your cresting anxiety. “Like I said, you don’t have anything to — ”

“No,” you swiftly interject, head shaking from left to right as you push yourself up onto your knees. “Don’t... _dismiss_ this. What are you  _talking_ about?”

The Prince looks vexed, though after taking a moment to card a hand through his disarray of inky tresses, he pushes out a sigh and wets his lower-lip with a quick swipe of his tongue before dropping his gaze back down to the floor’s lambent porthole. “ _Again_ , (Y/N)... It’s nothing that you need to worry about.”

“ _No,_ ” you assert, eyes bright with incredulity when Noctis lifts his chin to meet them a second time — though notably _less_ peeved, he still seemed uptight in regards to your insistence; everything about his facial expression couldn’t have possibly suggested otherwise. Judging by the way he rolls his jaw and cranes a single eyebrow in response to the threatening glare that you bear into him, he’s already contemplating another way to shut you down; who’d have thought that he’d be so fucking tenacious?  “Explain what you _meant_ , please. Seeing as how it directly involves me, I’m entitled to know.”

Noctis’ expression doesn’t change; a baleful wolf in sheep’s clothing. “It... directly involves you?”

“Doesn’t it, though? How else would you explain it?”

Beneath the dark curtain of his bangs, the Prince’s eyebrows pull together in feigned curiosity; an act of pure cheekiness that made you wish for a pillow just to launch at his face. “Explain… _what_?”

You hadn’t realized that the crescent ridges of your fingernails had sunken into the skin of your knees until you inadvertently wedge them deeper, the pain of such enough to make you realize the severity of the physical tension that kept your every muscle taut with apprehension towards the Prince. With a deep, steady breath, you willed yourself to relax —if you played your cards right, you’d get an answer; **the** answer. Noctis may have been evasive with his hand, but it was only a matter of time before he’d eventually deal it to the table…

A cutthroat tactic would be a fruitless maneuver on your end; you had to be patient, you had to be _persuasive_ … Unfortunately, however, patience wasn’t one of your virtues — especially not when it came to something like  _this_.

“You can control it?” You finally ask, the words coming out in an exhale before you fall silent, gaze shifting from one of the Prince’s eyes to the other as you await his response with bated breath. For several seconds, he says nothing — _did_ nothing; you expected him to be stubborn, at least, but having your entire question disregarded as a whole had done nothing to soothe your frayed nerves.

Had you...  _worded_ yourself incorrectly, maybe? Was his silence some sort of confirmation? Clenching your jaw, you force a swallow before pressing further. “More importantly, if you can control it, why don’t you have it… _‘on_ ’... right now...?”

Noctis chuckles. “Do you  _want_ it on right now?”

Goosebumps pimple along both of your arms at the edacious husk that edges his every syllable, the underlying threat that lurks within them nearly  _impossible_ to miss. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“It’s what _I’m_ asking.” With a smooth, deft fluidity, Noctis kicks back his remaining blankets and hauls himself up to his feet — an intimidation tactic that has you inching further back onto the trundle, despite him still being a solid six feet away from you.

“I think that you’re lying.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine. Why should I answer yours?” You reply almost gratingly, legs untucking from beneath you in preparation to scoot even further backwards; just like he had done out on the deck the day before, he gradually began to close the distance in slow, stoical strides, and though you could have easily climbed off the other side of the trundle to escape his approach, a part of you didn’t want to…

There wasn’t anyone around for an interruption this time. If he was planning on doing something, you wanted to see  _exactly_ what it was.

“So, a compromise?” Before his shins can brush against the edge of the pullout, Noctis stops walking. An invisible barrier hangs suspended between the both of you, though his inquiry had indirectly suggested its omission. “I answer your question, you answer mine?”

A vocal compliance wasn’t necessary; he  _knew_ how badly you wanted to know the truth behind everything that’s happened since yesterday — had _he_ been the one behind it, for one?

How was he _doing_ it?

 **_Why_** was he doing it?

A dozen questions, and none of them held the promise of a reasonable answer… If you were being completely honest with yourself, none of it necessarily felt _real,_ either; outside of the King’s magic, the very idea of contemporary occultism seemed fanciful and fictitious. Noctis may have been of royal blood, but he wasn’t a clairvoyant — he wasn’t a _magician_.

How could someone possibly ‘ _control’_ the influx of raw emotion — if _that’s_ what this was? How could _any_ of it be explained?

“I guess I’ll go first...” The Prince quietly says across from you when you fail to speak, the throaty tone of his voice perforating your skepticism and abruptly luring out your initial distress of what he may or may not have been _capable_ of. “You want to know if I can…” A pause, followed by a slow, unfurling smirk. “... _control_ it, yeah?”

Breathe _... Breathe..._ **_Breathe_** _..._ “Yes.”

This was it. This was _really_ it — the _truth_. Oh, _Gods_ … The **_truth_**...

Your heart sinks with the realization, settling into the pit of your stomach and inadvertently making you clench your jaw in preparation for the trauma that he was about to administer; you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear the complete and total _absurdity_ of it. In an attempt to quell your frenetic pulse, you take a deep breath — repeating the words ‘ _it’s impossible_ ’ and ‘ _calm down, there’s no way that he’s behind it_ ’ and ‘ _this is happening because of something that I ate_ ’ over and over again until Noctis breaths out a string of words that almost flatlines your heart.

“ _You tell me_.”

With a coercive jolt, that insatiable, distantly-familiar fire suddenly erupts in your lower abdomen, and with a sharp pivot, you’re rolling over onto your side and burying your face into the wool blanket to stifle a cry — breathing rapidly becoming stunted and unsteady from the sheer  _intensity_ of it. It was as if every fiber of your being was calling out for a touch — _his_ touch, specifically — and despite the way that it had affected you yesterday afternoon, it had to be _twice_ as worse now; you were already shamelessly contemplating propositions just to have it _sated_.

 **_What in the hell_ ** **was**   ** _this?_ **

It takes a surprising amount of strength — ( _what little of it there was, anyway_ ) — to stabilize yourself enough to speak, though no amount of preparation could successfully mask the _desperation_ that plaits your tone of voice; the humiliation of sounding so positively wrecked has your cheeks flaring almost painfully. “H-How can you — ?”

You don’t need to look at him to know that the bastard’s grinning — you can _hear_ the wet drag of his lips as he pulls them back. “How can I… _what?_ ”

To protect what’s left of your dignity, you try your damndest to control your reaction; like a cool finger trailing down a warm spine, his voice makes you forcibly shudder, though the trilling whimper that accompanies it constricts in the center of your chest, suppressed. “How can you —,” you try again, swallowing thickly as a warm wash of slick arousal permeates the lining of your swimsuit bottoms and dampens the heated skin of your inner-thighs; _dear fuck, this was bad._ “How can — how can you —”

“How can I make you wet for me?” Noctis answers you darkly, one of his knees extending forward to press down onto the trundle at your side. “How can I make you want me — make you _need_ me — so bad that it physically hurts you?”

For a brief, fleeting moment, you contemplate reaching out for him; his words, the way that he _sounds — all of it_ was strongly encouraging an impetuosity that you fought to control, though amid the opaque, lust-filled haze, your logic somehow manages to persevere. Noctis may have confirmed your suspicions about him with a vocal dosage of flagrant filth, but your interest in the _mechanics_ of such was still vastly prominent — _you really_ did _want to know how in the hell he was doing it._ More importantly, however, you wanted to know **_w h y_** _._

The delirium of his salacious affliction must have drawn the question from you of its own volition, for the chuckle that he suddenly emits in response is one of both amusement and dubiety. " _Really_?” He asks, taking that opportunity to reach down and clutch at your shoulder — something that immediately has you _keening,_ because good _fuck_ , his skin feels so _good_ against yours — before he’s pushing you, pliant and shaky and _willing_ , from your initial fetal position and onto your back to stare dazedly up at the cabin’s low ceiling. Soft, undulating beams of iridescent blue still dance along the span of it from the porthole on the sailboat’s floor, though you can’t appreciate it as much as you could just minutes ago — not when twin spheres of a much, _much_ more dazzling shade appear directly above you in a looming hover.

The trundle dips on either side of your shoulders as his palms find purchase, elbows locking to maintain balance while the majority of his weight rests on his knees at your side. The way that he’s suddenly lowering his face down toward yours is enough to make you squirm— the tapered ends of his raven tresses brushing against the torrid flesh of your cheeks and instantaneously inciting a whimper of only the _utmost_ depravity from deep within your chest. Noctis stops when he hears it — a devastating _four_ inches away from your mouth — and smirks; your resolve was being plucked apart, thread by thread, and in that moment, there’s _no_ greater satisfaction to him than watching it happen.

“ _Three_ questions… That wasn’t part of our deal; we only agreed to one, and you’ve already asked yours…” The warm cascade of his breath against your face is intoxicating. He smelled  _clean —_ like linen and seawater with a touch of spice that’d been uniquely _his_. He smelled _warm_ — like a fleece blanket draped over an armchair next to a blazing hearth on a cold night. Inadvertently, your fingers move from your sides to reach up and curl around both of his wrists — tightening in response to the way that his tendons flex beneath your touch.

 _How in Etro’s name had this come to happen?_ Two days ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the Crown Prince as you rode alongside him in the Regalia’s backseat on the way to Galdin, stomach still sour over the way that he’d abruptly cold-shouldered your friendship two years prior. The looks that he’d given you that day — all dark and calculating and unnervingly stoic — had done nothing to alleviate the discomfort of being in his proximity, but things had changed… _Six,_ had things changed! _None of it made any sense_. In less than forty-eight hours, you had unexpectedly gone from _that_ to **this** — entire body flushed and alight with a desire more intense than anything that you’d ever experienced before in your life, and _he_ was entirely to blame.

_Somehow._

“Th-that’s not — _ngghh! —_ that’s not _fair_ , you —“

“Oh, no,” he croons. “It’s  _entirely_ fair. I answered your question, didn’t I?”

“ _No._ Well, y-yes, but not — not _really._ It doesn’t make any sense...”

Noctis clicks his tongue disapprovingly, right hand carefully twisting free from the grasp that you have around his wrist before he’s slowly ghosting his fingers forward to card through the locks of hair against your scalp. “A deal’s a deal,” he says, suppressing a _purr_ at the way that you’re suddenly craning your chin just to lean into his touch; you really _were_ a sick puppy. “It’s _my_ turn.”

Realization breaches the concrete shell of your licentious intoxication and you find yourself going apprehensively tense beneath him; _that was a threat_ , _wasn’t it?_ It’s only when your facial expression hardens with concern that Noctis acts — fingers coiling suddenly in your tresses and pulling them taut with a roll of his wrist. The pressure is intense, but not painful, though instinctively, both of your hands are lifting to gently encircle the wrist that holds you captive again while your back arches off of the trundle in search of relief.

“There’s something that I’ve been meaning to ask you, anyway… ” the Prince begins, acclimating to your shift in position by nestling one of his legs directly between yours — entire body bearing down just enough to pin you back flat against the trundle before his mouth is _trailing_ the curve of your jaw in a slow, scant drag. The sensation is overwhelming — the immediacy and _intimacy_ of what was happening both too much and not nearly enough to quell the hellfire that’s broiling in your belly, but it’s _something_ ; a docile scratch over an insistent itch. When a broken, ratified whimper sounds from the back of your throat, Noctis tightens his fingers in your hair just to _prolong_ it — a breathy grunt now spilling into the shell of your ear as you impetuously oblige.

 _He was all around you_ ; the feel of him, the smell of him, the _heat_ of him — lips, hands and _legs_ in places that you’d only ever fantasized about. The feeling of his fingers tightening around your thighs in a desperate attempt to keep you balanced during your bout of Chicken with him two days prior had acted as a gateway to _all of this_ , you had inattentively decided, though never did you expect anything to come to fruition… _Why would it?_ He was detached and impassive toward you up until this point; there was _no way_ that he’d willingly make you feel this way, regardless of what he had said. Despite the lack of logic behind all of it alongside an immense amount of confusion, however, you were in no position to willingly spurn his advances…

 _For fuck’s sake, you_ _were a_ ** _mess_** _—_ your grasp on rationality weakening by the literal second.

“Be honest with me.” His words — guttural and _rough_ — pitch you back into reality as he husks them against your ear, fingers loosening in your hair just enough to grant a compliant nod before they’re tightening again; whatever he was about to ask you, he needed you to be steady, _secure_.

The inference isn’t lost on you, and with baited breath, you inwardly prepare for the inevitable — issuing a string of silent pleas to every deity in every land and every scripture to have mercy on just how critically this was about to affect you.

“The other night,” he whispers, swallowing audibly before his own breath catches in his throat at the recollection. “After I came back to the hotel room from the bar…”

_Oh, no._

_Oh, no no no…_

_No._

“Don’t.”

There’s a vicious, _knowing_ smirk in his tone of voice. “You had locked yourself in the bathroom to take a long, _hot_ bath to make this —”,  he pauses to press the side of his knee into the faded, now-painless blemish that still marks your thigh, chuckling low when you snare your lower-lip between your teeth to suppress a gasp, “— _nasty_ little sting feel better, but after you’d gotten into the water…”

You can’t help but squirm beneath him, voice trembling as you _fight_ to speak past the rush of crippling anxiety. “Noctis —”

He drops his voice to a _growl._ “You had other plans.”

 _“Noctis,_ don’t _—!”_

“ _Tell me_ ,” he harshly interjects, breath warm and humid against your ear. “When you closed your eyes and slide a hand between your legs to play with yourself in the bathtub, (Y/N) — exactly _what_ was on your mind, huh?”

A sweltering heat flares in both of your cheeks, chest suddenly heaving with a choked sob as Noctis crudely confirms what had happened that night; _of course he knew._ Ever since trekking up to bed after encountering him outside of the bathroom, you’d known that he’d heard you — given the sheer _humility_ of being perceived in such an intimate situation, you found solace in telling yourself otherwise, but deep down, you _knew._ Recognition of that truth, on the other hand… You wouldn’t have been able to handle it had you conjured up enough strength to acknowledge it. Keeping a safe distance from the Prince as well as distracting yourself with his sinful shield seemed like the best (and only) way to make it through the remainder of the vacation with your dignity still intact, though now — with your shameless venture so luridly exposed by the very person that had induced it — you weren’t so sure; _now,_ it was turning out to be quite the opposite...

“Was it Gladio?” The throaty query has you shaking your head, movement limited by the clutch of his fingers still tangled in your tresses, but the point was noted, nevertheless; you can feel the Prince’s mouth pull back into a triumphant smirk against the lobe of your ear — _as if this was news to him._ “Oh? _No?_ ” The leg that’s nestled between the both of yours begins to move — his body shifting to accommodate the way that he’s suddenly nudging your thighs apart with another insistent press of his knee. “Was it Prompto? _Specs_?”

You indulge his importunity by going pliant — allowing the leg of question to obligingly press down into the trundle while the other shifts and lifts in silent invitation — though the denial of his suggestions is still ever present with each shake of your head. “No,” you breathe in rebuttal, neck still straining against the pressure in your hair that ultimately ends up robbing you of your ability to fully perceive the way in which he’s roughly settling himself between your now-splayed thighs. Your toes _curl_ when you feel the heat him, both of your knees instantly hitching to press into either side of his waist in an attempt to bring him _closer_ , but he’s resisting — hips angled back just enough to keep the pressure against your core to a minimum.

The whine that it elicits is abruptly silenced when his fingers suddenly unravel from your hair to reach down and hook your jaw, drawing your chin up with a firm pull in order to meet the blown pupils that swallow all but a gaunt ring of his irises. _Never_ had you seen him look so feral, so carnal; so _ravenous_. When the syllable comes, it comes quietly — a grating whisper that warms your lips as it’s expelled a mere two inches from your face. “ _Me?_ ”

 _Oh, my_ **fucking** **_—_ **

Your admission to his suggestion consists of both a shudder and a keen; the fantasy of Noctis kneeling between your legs to purl his tongue between the folds of your sex had been _merciless_ in its attempt to bring you to orgasm that night in the bathtub. The combination of your predicament and the way that he’d _looked_ at you before you fell unconscious out on the beach was what had birthed the desire in the first place, though that was all it was intended to be — _desire_. You’d have done your business — undiscovered _,_ mind _—_ and climbed out of the bathtub before retreating to your quarters for several more hours of recovery sleep, and that would have been that. Your lust toward the Prince would have been repressed in the days that followed, and if you were lucky, you’d have scored yourself a Galdin local to distract yourself with until it was time to travel back to Caem, but clearly, that wasn’t what the gods had _intended_ for you...

It was never that simple, was it?

“You were listening.” It wasn’t voiced like a question — you _knew_ that he’d been there, after all — though the prior embarrassment that paired with the knowledge of being overheard wasn’t nearly as beetling as it had been; in your fevered state, you found it to be more arousing than disconcerting.

“ _I was listening_.” Something flashes in his eyes with the confirmation — a glint of pink that immediately has you _twitching_ , thighs tightening around the curve of his hips as both of your hands twist and curl into the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Oh, Gods — _Noctis_ , what are you _doing_ to —”

Your words tear off into a cry when he takes that moment to roll his hips forward, his groin pressing directly into the apex of your thighs and making you acutely aware of the fact that he’s _hard_ — the turgid outline of his cock against your clothed sex enough to cleanly slice through any and all skepticism in relation to the deviant influence that he has over you. At this point, none of it mattered; your body was _burning_ , drunk off of the insatiable desire to have him near you, against you, **inside of you**.  

_I’m so sorry, Iris... This is going to happen. I tried… Gods, I tried..._

Your hips lift from the trundle in reciprocation, a gesture that wrenches a snarl from the Prince’s throat before one of his hands disappears between the both of you to slowly curl into the elastic waistband of your cotton shorts. “That night, out on the beach,” he begins, mouth lowering to the column of your neck before swiping at your pulse point with the tip of his tongue. “I could smell how wet you were. Damned if I wasn’t right, too…” His fingers tighten in the fabric, wrist twisting as if to tear the garment open along its pleated seam. “You ruined your panties when you saw how close I was, didn’t you?”

Despite the debauchery of his words, they were _news_ to you; while your frenzied, toxin-twined heart may have panicked at the sight of him using his mouth to draw the poison from your thigh, you certainly didn’t think that it had _aroused_ you to the point of —

Oh, _shit..._

Noctis hums his approval at the way that you stiffen in realization, lips slowly trailing down the length of your neck before pressing his mouth to the curved juncture of your shoulder — his body suppressing a shudder at the way that it immediately eases you back into mitigation beneath him. “I couldn’t get it out of my head… When I heard you in the bathroom — heard the sounds that you were making — I _knew_...” His teeth anchor to your flesh, smarting the skin that’s snared between them with a bite hard enough to make you hiss, but it’s not nearly enough to dispel your salacity.

“Knew what?” You breath in response, hands impatiently tugging at the fabric of his shirt until it’s riding up the length of his back. “That you had some freakish superpower that makes me lust after you?”

With a sinfully wet disconnect of his mouth from your neck, Noctis withdraws himself just enough to indulge you — a single hand reaching above and behind himself to fist at his shirt’s neckline before pulling it swiftly over his head and casting it aside into the pile of blankets that still pool along the cabin’s floor. “ _That’s all you_ ,” he darkly affirms, predatorily dropping himself back down to readjust the grip that he still has around the band of your shorts. “I’m just…” he trails off, wetting his lower-lip by drawing it into his mouth. “... reinforcing what’s already there. But, no — that’s not how I knew.”

In the back of your mind, a plethora of questions sequentially begin to surface — questions that you can’t bring yourself to give two spiracorn shits over, because with a downward tug, Noctis is pulling your shorts past the swell of your hips and down past your thighs, revealing nothing but the pair of (now viscid) bikini bottoms that you still wore underneath. “No?” You manage to ask instead, the syllable dislodging from your chest in a gust of breath as anticipation over what he was going to do next gradually constricts around both of your lungs.

“No.” A shift in his position, and he’s tearing your shorts off the rest of the way — past your knees and down your calves — leaving them to pool at your ankles for you to kick off yourself before he’s nudging your thighs apart a second time and settling back between them with another agonizing roll of his hips. “I was on your mind that night, (Y/N)… I knew because I could _feel_ it — could feel _you_. I can’t explain it. I just…  _I_   _could_. I didn’t want to believe it, but I _knew..._ ”

When you feel his fingertips suddenly slip beneath the sheer material of your tunic to brush against the skin of your abdomen, your back arcs from the trundle in response — clothed breasts pressing flush against the warm expanse of his bare chest as a single arm snakes upward to shakily curl around his shoulders. “What does that mean?” You whisper, eyes fluttering closed when he dips his mouth back down to indolently lave at the stem of your neck with his tongue.

“It means…” he husks, expelling a heated breath against your dampened skin as his wandering fingertips trace along the length of your midriff before stopping at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms — the cusp of his thumb shamelessly hooking beneath the elastic just to _tease_ before he’s smirking to himself when you purr your subdued approval into the tufts of his sleep-skewered hair. “It means that — they’ve chosen. That _I’ve_ chosen.”

“What...? What do you mean by — _aagh, Noctis —!_ ”

A strangled cry fills the expanse of the modest cabin when the Prince slips his entire hand beneath the band of your swimsuit, the calloused padding of his index finger brazenly trailing the length of your slit before he’s cupping the heat of your sex into his palm with a groan. “I can feel you  _right now_...” He speaks through a clenched jaw, two of his fingers working to spread you open while a third traces the pulsing cluster of nerves at the crest with a tortuous pressure that has you fighting to stay coherent. “Your energy, your _need_ … All of it’s for  _me._ ”

Against his skin, you can _feel_ how immodestly slick that you'd become — an accumulation of warm, liquid silk coating all _five_ of his fingers and rewetting your inner-thighs as he deliberately begins to toy with you, seemingly fueled by the way that you’re physically falling apart beneath each tactile stroke of his fingers. Enslaved by your lust, all you can do is nod your head in response — voice failing you in all aspects save for the way that it’s pitching in hedonic reciprocation.

“ _Fuck_ …” He’s sucking in a breath through his teeth before swallowing hard, pressing those same three fingers together and running the flat of them along the length of you to produce one of the most crude _, wet_ sounds that you’d never heard come from your own body before. “You need me, don’t you?”

It wasn't a question.

Your reply is immediate — a brusque remark that spills from you far sooner than you’d have liked for it to. “ _Yes._ ”

“Say it. ”

“I _need_ you, Noc —” Your words are silenced by his mouth dropping down to firmly fasten to yours, ultimately stifling the sob that bubbles in the back of your throat when two of his fingers push past your folds and synchronously slide inside of you — their girth stretching open the hot, neglected walls of your core as he sheathes them all the way down to the knuckle before painstakingly curling them inward in a series of tight, unyielding strokes. Instantaneously, the pleasure becomes unequivocally _staggering_ — your mouth tearing away from his just to catch your breathe from the raw intensity of it. “ _Gods…_ ” you brokenly keen into the emptiness of the cabin, hips rolling in tandem with each languid pump of his fingers to ensure that he kept _moving —_ breathy praises of ‘ _yes’_ and ‘ _please don’t stop_ ’ spewing forth like an erotic mantra while trembling fingers tangle and tighten in his messy crop of silken black as he works you closer and _closer_ to the point of ultimate rubicon.

Until it’s so fiercely, so _unexpectedly_ torn asunder by something that neither one of you had foreseen — something so astringently paralyzing in nature that a powerful wave of nausea is the only thing keeping you grounded instead of falling unconscious to the icy shock of having your high so forcibly shattered by the humility of being _discovered_.

“Hey, guys — sorry! I forgot to grab my camera on the way out, and didn’t wanna —”

A devastating pause.

“...Noct? _(Y/N)?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, S U H N A P.  
> Prompto, you COOOOCKBLOOOOOCK.
> 
> Alright, so! I equal parts hated and loved this — loved because _hello_ , and hated because I had a lot of trouble finding a good rhythm to keep things flowing smoothly and am lowkey dissatisfied with the final result. 90% of this chapter was progression between Noctis and the Reader, I realize, and I truly don't expect people to fully understand all of the information that's been disclosed thus far, but that's okay — more aspects of it will be focused on in later chapters. However, in the meantime, people are more than welcome to come at me on Tumblr with any questions pertaining to it and I'd be MORE than happy to explain (without spoiling). 
> 
> A HUGE shoutout to my babe of a beta for putting up with me throughout my struggles trying to produce this. If I didn't have your support, Pegs, I'd probably have given up on chapter two. The same goes for Annie, who's been nothing but encouraging these past four months. AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO'S BEEN SUPPORTIVE AND KIND WITH THEIR AMAZING MESSAGES TO ME BOTH ON HERE AND ON TUMBLR; I LOVE YOU GUYS.
> 
>    
>  **TALK TO ME, YA'LL. TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL.**


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